Love at the Crossroads
by mswainwright
Summary: Sybil finds her independence and in the process finds love. Set mostly in London and Downton during WWI. Begins after S1. I don't own these characters, but am just inspired by them. Enjoy!
1. Striking a Blow for Independence

_This is my first fanfic ever, enjoy. More chapters to come.

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1915 - It was little before half past seven in the morning as a young woman darted across the tram and motor traffic on Gower Street. She walked briskly, meandering through the passersby that crowded the sidewalk. Turning right she headed toward the large hulking edifice of the military hospital that sat at the end of the side street. The mid-October air was beginning to possess the coolness that fall often gets when it draws its breath from the coming winter. As the young nurse climbed the hospital's cascading stairs, Sybil Crawley pulled her light grey wool coat tight to keep her warm against the crisp morning air.

Once inside the great entrance hall she greeted the front desk receptionist, the attentive Mrs. Starr, with a respectful "Good day Nurse Starr." And marched quickly down a long corridor that led to the ward's offices where the nurses maintained a small area for themselves. Here she could leave her coat, hat, and purse, and sit down for a tea before she commenced the list of tasks the head nurse would most surely have prepared for her the day before.

"Morning Sybil," she heard from a woman who entered the room as Sybil hung up her coast. "How are you this morning," the woman followed her greeting in lilting tones of Welsh accent, "it'll be gettin' a bit chilly soon no?"

"Good morning and I am well Louisa and ready for a cup of tea to warm me up," Sybil said turning around to warmly greet her co-worker who was now unpinning her large brown hat.

The persistently cheery Louisa was a fellow junior nurse. A robust woman in her late 20s, she was from Wales originally, but had been the head housemaid for several years at an exclusive hotel on Cavendish Square. The war had forced its owner, Mrs. Trotter, a rare female _chef de cuisine_, to shutter its doors until the conflict ended. So with her maid duties greatly reduced, Louisa put her many skills to good use working days at the hospital helping the wounded and the convalescent.

Determined and focused like her, Louisa had become Sybil's comrade-in-arms on the front-line of the ward. But she had also become a friend, one of the few at the hospital as Sybil tended to mostly keep to herself. She spoke very little to the other nurses unless it was about a specific task or to pose a question. Her new found reserve was not because she was unfriendly, quite the contrary she was certainly of her three sisters the most genial and outspoken. No it was because she feared her distinct accent and naivety about how to do certain things would out her aristocratic upbringing.

By donning the same pale blue cotton frock and white apron as the other nurses she believed her uniform would equalize such differences, at least for now on the face of it. Sybil Crawley, and not Lady Sybil the third daughter of the Earl of Grantham, was determined that she not stand out but be able to channel all of her energies to the men who desperately needed her care.

It turned out that her friendship with Louisa had become a welcome diversion in what were always demanding day shifts as the casualties kept streaming in from the Western Front. In their conversations over tea or while walking home, she often had queried Louisa on what Wales was like, the landscape, the houses, food, people, her family, everything imaginable. It wasn't that she wished to pry, but rather that she wanted to construct in her mind a vivid image of these faraway places.

It was a habit she had developed from her many talks with the family's chauffeur Branson. The young driver regaled her with tall tales of great deeds in his homeland of Ireland, (some of which she did quite believe, but nonetheless went along with willingly because she found him so warm and engaging, and at certain moments, when she daydreamed also found him quite handsome.) For the little traveled Sybil these stories from others became a vicarious way to tour the world.

When they had a break from their taxing duties Louisa proved to be a great storyteller. She would tell Sybil of the many escapades of the hotel's wealthy and titled patrons. These anonymous accounts of the outrageous and bawdy behavior of the lords and ladies of her own class always made Sybil roar with laughter. For both young women a dose of humor was a healthy way to break the pall of human suffering that cast itself over most of the wards, whose needy patients benefited from the care and kindness these dedicated nurses administered to their battered bodies and tattered souls.

But Louisa's stories about the frivolities of the elite classes, (while their fellow countrymen and women were trapped in lives of drudgery and poverty,) also affirmed for Sybil the absurdity of the notion of inherited rank and excessive wealth. She often thought to herself as she tended to the men of her ward, "weren't injured bodies, whether duke or lawyer or footman, all the same? At war or at peace weren't they all human beings in the end?"

* * *

Sybil efficiently finished her morning tea. And as she had done for the past eight months, she arrived on the ward floor by 8AM sharp ready to get on with the days work.

A large rectangular room, the North Ward had high ceilings and tall windows on three sides that allowed fresh air to circulate in the summer months. There were 16 beds in the ward. Between the beds were small tables, roll-able screens, and chairs for visitors. The head nurse, the stout and sturdy Mrs. McBride, was stationed at a desk in the middle so that she could easily keep watch of the patients and oversee the duties of the ward's four nurses.

The soldiers were convalescents who came to the hospital in need of additional surgery for their injuries. The patients in Sybil's ward had suffered mostly bullet and shrapnel wounds to the torso, so post surgical care was their primary duty. After they left the ward, the lads would be either sent home (but only those with the most debilitating wounds,) or to another military hospital for additional rehabilitation, or mostly likely back to the Front.

She worked in a teaching hospital with some of the best physicians, surgeons, and nurses in the country. Sybil was junior nurse (as was Louisa,) so her duties were to assist senior nurses with various routines, but she was learning a great deal about the latest medical techniques and patient care.

"Good morning Nurse McBride," Sybil delivered in her most confident voice as she walked up to the desk.

"Good morning Nurse Crawley," Mrs. McBride replied with a slight hint of a scouse accent that betrayed her northern roots.

She handed her junior nurse today's list. And peering above her spectacles perched on her nose, Mrs. McBride then added, "I've taken notice. Ya've become quite good at dressing tha lad's wounds. We'd like ya join the training team ta teach basic skills ta volunteers once a month in tha evenings, if ya don't mind lending a hand."

Mrs. McBride had a reputation as a stern taskmaster and as such, compliments from her had the rarity of the finest pink diamond. But her demanding ways were only because, as Sybil soon realized, developing a steely constitution was a requisite part of being a nurse during wartime.

"I'll gladly help. Thank you and I will work to do my best," Sybil responded.

Unfazed by the long list of tasks the head nurse placed in her hands, she took a deep breath and headed toward the first bed to change bandages.

* * *

It was the end of the day and early evening had drawn a shade of darkness outside the ward's windows.

With the last patient seen, weary, aching, and in need of a hot meal, Sybil was nonetheless pleased with her choice to come to London and to become a nurse.

Returning to the nurse's area, she put on her coat and then grabbed her purse and hat off the hook, bidding goodnight to other nurses also leaving their shifts.

She stopped at the small mirror that hung over the sink and tidied her hair before pinning on her hat. Staring intently, she observed that she exuded a confidence that had not been there a year earlier at Downton—what seemed like an eternity ago and worlds away.

"What would they all think of this Lady Sybil," she thought—as her mind next wandered to her spirited Irish driver (and friend) who had opened her eyes to all that needed to be done in the world.

She tilted her head slightly and blushed, "what would Branson think of this Lady Sybil?"

She was perhaps the most proud of her effort to chart the course of her own life (unlike her two sisters Edith and Mary, and much to the chagrin of her mother Cora and grandmother Violet.) Indeed, as she eased into the bustling evening crowds on her way home, Sybil Crawley was proud to strike a blow for women's independence.


	2. Long Walk Home

_Here is my second chapter; writing fanfic is rather addictive! Any and all reviews welcome._

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_Sybil loved walking in the morning from her family's home in Belgrave Square to the hospital and then back again. The hour journey, especially at the end of her shift, gave her time shake off the events of the day, time to get lost in her thoughts, and time to become absorbed in the panorama of people who enlivened the streets of London, even during wartime.

* * *

In order come to London she had to make several concessions to her father, who as former officer had been called back into military service. Even when away from Downton, he still exerted a great degree of influence over his three daughters, particularly over the headstrong youngest.

Sybil so wanted continue with her nursing, a new found vocation that began at the local Cottage Hospital under the tutelage of Cousin Isobel shortly after the war broke out. It took her several months to whittle down her parent's guard to let her go to work at the military hospital. But in the end with the aid her indefatigable persistence she had won. She was determined to help those in need in the best way possible.

On one of his leaves to attend to estate business and to check in on his family, Lord Grantham summoned his youngest daughter to the library. He stood next to his desk when she walked in. "Yes papa," she greeted her father.

Even in his drab olive uniform Robert still looked distinguished. Even with a war raging he was still a compassionate man, making time to care for his family and those in his charge. And Sybil appreciated how fortunate she was to have such a father and where her ability to care deeply for the needs of others had come from.

"If I agree to let you go to London," he began, "then you must agree to abide by my terms," her father told her in a tone that was delivered as if he were bargaining with the enemy.

"Yes, Papa I consent to your terms," Sybil said softly with her head bowed looking down at the carpet.

"First, you will live with your Aunt Rosamund, that way she can keep a watchful on you," said the Earl.

Yes, Papa," Sybil conceded.

"Second, her chauffeur will drive you to the hospital in the morning and he will pick up you at night as soon as your shift ends," he then demanded.

"Yes, Papa." But instantly she knew that she could somehow bend this rule to her suit her needs.

"Third, you will not for any reason be allowed to go out at night unless accompanied by a family member or chaperone, is that clear" he said and waited for her response.

She sighed, "Yes, Papa," but also doubted that that one could be enforced either.

"And lastly you will make your mother and me extremely proud by becoming the best nurse in London, now is that understood?" he concluded.

"YES PAPA!' she exclaimed. With that last caveat she burst into a smile and gave her father the biggest hug.

In March 1915 Sybil moved to London.

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Alas by the time the summer came, she had cleverly managed to bend rule two and shake off her aunt's dusty old chauffeur. She told her Aunt Rosamund that the use of valuable petrol during wartime was an utter waste, which was in fact quite true.

Why drive, she reasoned to her Aunt, when she was more than capable of getting there and back under her own steam?

Her Aunt realized that her niece had a valid point and agreed to let her walk, at least during the summer months when the sun set well after her shift ended. She advised her niece to a least take a hansom cab if she was delayed or if it were raining.

And it was on one such rainy day in July that her new friend Louisa discovered her well kept secret.

It was early morning and the rain had been pouring ceaselessly for two whole days. And it did not seem to want to let up.

"Milady, your Aunt has arranged for Pritchard to drop you off and pick you up today," announced her Aunt's butler Mr. Thornton as he helped Sybil into her coat and handed her an umbrella in the entrance hall.

"But I can assure her and you I won't be washed away," Sybil countered.

"Milady, your Aunt insists," he firmly told her.

She was sure Thornton had been warned to be on guard for her impetuous nature, so she relented.

"Yes, well alright."

Certainly a small setback in the war for independence, but Sybil was willing to lose this particular battle. She loved her aunt and did not want to antagonize her. After all she had been quite lenient in the enforcement of her brother's rules.

At the end of her shift that day, Sybil waited fifteen minutes for the other nurses to leave, so they wouldn't see her getting into the chauffeured motorcar.

As she waited Louisa hurried into the nurses area, "It was a good day today, but I'm glad to be going home at last," she said to Sybil.

"Yes, I was happy to hear that Corporal Lewis will be able to go home tomorrow," Sybil replied. But her friend seemed to be in a tizzy as she gazed about the room.

"Well I know I put it somewhere, now where is it?" Louisa muttered.

"Where is what?" Sybil asked

"My umbrella, where is it? I sat it over there to dry after this morning's downpour and now I can't find the blasted thing " Louisa said now in a full fledged panic. "How will I ever get back to the hotel, its like the Thames is flooding all of London out there!"

"Don't worry," Sybil reassured her friend, "Come with me, I will get you home and keep you dry."

Both nurses huddled under the umbrella as they walked out arm in arm to Gower Street and into the pouring rain. She had at least gotten Pritchard to not drive up to the hospital stairs, but to pick her up on a nearby corner.

"There, just over there is where he's parked," Sybil said as they neared the large dark green motorcar.

"Good Evening, Milady," Pritchard said holding a large umbrella as Sybil lowered hers so that the two women could climb into the back. Needless to say Sybil was mortified at that formal greeting, but was happy to help her friend get home safely. "Thank you Pritchard," as Sybil informed him of their slight detour.

"Good lawd Sybil, who is your Mr. Pritchard?" an utterly baffled Louisa asked.

On their ride to Cavendish Square, Sybil confessed to her friend about her family and her reasons for keeping it secret from all the other nurses.

"…so that is why I didn't tell anyone, I didn't want the distraction. But I am so sorry I kept it from you. I've grown so fond of you and grateful for our friendship. Will you forgive me?" Sybil inquired as she reached out to her friends hand.

"Nothing to forgive," Louisa smiled warmly and added "Well now, Queen Mother McBride has a real Princess about to keep her in line!" And with that the two women burst out in laughter.

They pulled up to the hotel. Mr. Merriman the hotel's doorman opened the car door and was astonished to find Louisa inside. As she stepped down, she warmly grabbed Sybil's hand and thanked her for her kindness.

"Home now," Sybil told Pritchard.

The old man dryly replied, as if cobwebs had wired his mouth shut, "Yes…My…Lady." It's brevity made her sorely miss her young driver's Irish brogue and the instant banter that commenced as soon as she sat down in the car.

* * *

That rainy day was four months ago.

Sybil enjoyed her walk home on a cool evening in early November. Dressed in her heavy burgundy coat and wrapped with a scarf, she followed a different route everyday. And sometimes she walked part of the way with Louisa, with the two friends chattering away about the day's events in the ward.

That night as she strolled home the gas streetlamps cast an ethereal glow over the darting people and shop windows. Amidst this surreal atmosphere her mind began to wander through her memories of life at Downton.

Perhaps deep down her desire for these long walks, Sybil thought, were indeed about her quest for independence. But she also wondered if it also came from her not wanting to be ferried about without Branson at the helm. She missed her friend.

Sybil reflected longingly upon their conversations during the almost weekly trips to Ripon for her various projects and meetings.

Their lively exchanges were part debate and part tutorial. He schooled her about women's suffrage, why socialism would change the world for the better, and why so many Irish wanted to be cut free from the yoke of British rule.

He would often say, "Milady, your question leads me to think…" And so their conversations would meander from topic to topic. And she always had a laundry list of questions to pose to him.

This became so much of a routine between them that he began to stop the car just outside the estate's gate, so that he could thoughtfully answer all her queries before he dropped her off. Sometimes this would go on for an hour or more and she would miss the dressing gong. She would apologize profusely to her family, but she didn't mind risking their displeasure at her tardiness because Branson listened to her in ways her superior sisters never bothered. And he inspired her in ways she never thought possible. More and more, she grew fond of her special rapport with the radical Irish chauffeur.

Whenever Branson pulled the car over to the side of the road, he would remove his hat and gloves. He would turn around with his left arm hinged on the seat back and hands gesticulating wildly to explain his point. She liked that. This way she could then see the passion that animated his face. And she could watch his blue eyes dart back and forth as he tried to sort out the points of some new suffragette pamphlet or why the workers would seize the means of production.

And on occasion when Sybil would lean forward and launch into one of her many inquiries about his home and family in Ireland or why politics stirred his heart, she thought she caught him gazing intently into her eyes as if searching for something that lay buried deep inside of her. However she wasn't sure what it was he sought, at least not yet.

When he laughed it made her heart feel like it dangled from the lightest gossamer thread.

She recalled his entrancing eyes.

His smile…

"MISS, WATCH IT MISS!" came a call that shattered Sybil's daydream. Lost in the fog of the past, she was just about to walk head on into a lorry parked very much in the present.

"Oh, oh thank heavens, thank you sir, " she responded to the lorry's owner whose vehicle stood just before her turn onto Belgrave Square.

And so ended the reverie of this long walk home.


	3. Hating Goodbyes

Chapter 3 Hating Goodbyes

_Another chapter! This one weaves in one of the main characters. Some of the "new" characters come from other period dramas and one in this chapter has a specific Downton connection. Enjoy. _

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_Gliding down the stairs amidst a cloud of turquoise and light blue, Sybil warmly greeted her cousin.

She was dressed in her "notorious" harem pants or that was at least how Granny had christened her new "dress." It was an outfit that she had not worn in over a year, since her Aunt Rosamund was none to fond of her niece's questionable fashion choices and dinners at Downton had become more somber affairs now that Papa, Matthew, and some of the staff were away at war.

But tonight she wasn't dining with her Aunt who was sick and confined to her bed upstairs. It was Friday evening. She had worked all week long, so why shouldn't she get to dine out in London for the first time since she'd been here? And to celebrate the occasion and to toast her growing independence she decided to put on her pantaloons.

"My dearest Cousin Matthew," Sybil beamed at the young man standing in the entrance hall, "it is so good to see you again."

He was a little thinner than when she last saw him, although it could have been the bulkiness of his wool uniform. But by all accounts he looked well.

She recalled how two years ago she was a bit smitten with her cousin the solicitor from Manchester, who was now serving in a regiment that had seen action on the Front. Matthew's note arranging tonight's dinner also mentioned that he had been dispatched back to England to take care of some regimental duties. He was in London the next week. He would then collect fresh troops and in three more weeks sail back to France. This schedule meant she would see him again for Christmas at Downton.

"Cousin Sybil," Matthew said in reply, "you are looking quite well."

"As do you. I am so looking forward to going out this evening, where will we be dining?"

The young Lieutenant responded, "We'll be joining a dinner party at the house of one my commanding officers. I hope that won't be too much of a bother, since you probably will have to dine with strangers and original plan was for me to dine here with you and Cousin Rosamund."

"Tis no bother. My Aunt sends her regrets, but this way I have your company all to myself," she plotted, "that is _almost _all to myself."

And it also didn't seem to bother her either that this evening out on her own with an eligible suitor also stretched Papa's rule three: _you will not for any reason be allowed to go out at night unless accompanied by a family member or chaperone._ Matthew was after all family—if indeed a cousin 4th removed.

Thornton helped her with her coat. And Pritchard drove round to take the cousins to their dinner party.

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On the cold late November evening they arrived at a fashionable house at north end of Regents Park just before 7:30PM. As they entered the hall and shed their coats, Matthew and Sybil were warmly welcomed by the evening's hosts Major Cowan and his wife Lady Margaret.

"Sir," Matthew saluted to his superior officer.

The Major returned the salute and held out his hand to welcome his junior office. "Who have we here? Who is this bewitching young lady, introduce me please," the Major inquired, his mouth partially hidden behind a thick white mustache that curled up into spirals.

Matthew did the introductions, "Major Cowan and Lady Cowan, I would like to introduce you to my cousin, Lady Sybil Crawley."

With that Sybil held out her hand to Lady Margaret first, "pleased to make your acquaintance Lady Margaret." And then performed the same ritual with her husband, "pleased to make your acquaintance Major Cowan."

The Major, who exuded the faint scent of whiskey and cigars, grasped her hand, bowed his head, and said "charmed," He then led her into a sitting room decorated in warm tones of peach and copper with hints of green where the other guests had gathered.

Odd how things stack up, Sybil pondered as she sat down on the sofa next to Matthew who was engaged in conversation with Lady Margaret. When not in London, Cowan was also a Viscount with a small estate in Derbyshire. So while he may outrank Matthew in the military, Matthew would eventually outrank Cowan in the world of royal peerage. But why should such things count and for whom? War had proven that power meant everything in a man's world, but what if it were a woman's world?

"Is that Lady Sybil?" she heard from a young officer coming into the room.

As he walked toward her to take her hand, she realized it was Claude Turner-Rumbold, son of the Earl of Eastborne.

"Claudy or shall I say Lieutenant Turner-Rumbold " she replied, "Its so good to see you."

He sat next to her on the sofa. Claudy had been one of the eligible young men who circulated around the parties of her first season. And circulate he did, it earned him his nickname "Bawdy Claudy." So she knew to steer clear of his compliments and dashing charm.

She asked him how his Eaton chum Willie was making out?

"Ah poor Willie, I am afraid to inform you he didn't make it back from Ypres last spring," he told her, "Nasty business, this war."

"How sad. You were a good friend," she reassured him.

And she then told him about her efforts at holding up the homefront by training as a nurse. Claudy found the thought of an Earl's daughter minding the hospital wards a great diversion. And he could not stop complimenting her fashion choice. "Another coup, my dear, along with your exceptionally good looks tonight," he whispered in her ear "you make the other women in the room pale by comparison."

The butler informed the guests that dinner was served.

Matthew had been watching his cousin all evening as he now stood near the fireplace. She had blossomed into a beguiling young woman. The warm orange light of room lent a regal glow to her appearance. He came over to take her in to dinner and said, "You look absolutely radiant this evening. I think I shall have to do my best to fend off the advances of these young, and I might add, old officers!"

Right at that moment, the Major approached her and asked, "Lady Sybil may I escort you into the dining room?"

"I'd be delighted," she said shooting a sly smile back at Matthew.

"Tell me about your nursing." the Major began as he took her arm, "we need more girls about with your spirit, I recall a young..."

* * *

Pritchard returned them to the house shortly after 10. She invited Matthew to stay a bit longer as they still had so much to catch up on. She asked Thornton, who had been waiting for her return, to bring whatever Matthew wished, a glass of wine, cognac, or whisky, into the library. She would have a port.

The library in London was a much smaller room than the one at Downton, but no less grand in its details. Sybil enjoyed reading here especially because she could sit close to fire. And the house was far quieter since there was no family or staff scampering about, so she could read for hours without being disturbed.

Thornton brought them their aperitifs. As Matthew sat next to Sybil on the large sofa he began to tell her about his various duties and where he had been. They agreed that the war would change everything, it had already changed many things. And then the conversation turned to her.

"So, I was astonished to hear from Mother you were in London and training as a nurse! I bet you almost gave Cousin Violet a heart attack?" Matthew asked.

"Yes when she heard Granny gave me one of her looks that could stop time. But I also inherited her stubbornness so she knew her enfilade of objections 'a girl of you status' 'you will be mauled, you know' did not deter me. If Granny blames anyone for my 'downfall' it's _your_ mother."

"What on earth does Mother have to do with this?" Matthew said taken aback.

And Sybil told him how she began working at Downton's Cottage Hospital as a volunteer. She and Isobel shared the same passion for women's rights, so they often talked about the latest developments in the suffrage movement. She was quite fond of Isobel, who had become a second Aunt.

Isobel trained Sybil on the basics of nursing. At first she came once a week, but then she soon came everyday. What she enjoyed most was helping the women, especially those who were pregnant or had young children. Isobel saw promise in Sybil, for she had a keen eye, a sharp mind, and she listened. Isobel asked her if she wanted to go to London to train in a military hospital. She knew a colleague of her late husband's who had informed her that they desperately needed qualified women.

"So here I am, I've been here since March," she concluded her story.

"Well congratulations, I applaud your duty and your enthusiasm, but what did your sisters have to say?" Matthew asked.

"Certainly Edith and Mary do their part. They help knit socks with Mother. I know, imagine Mary and knitting needles—Edith best beware. But she's quite good at it, far better than me. And they also do things around the village for families of soldiers who are away or have been killed. But I wanted, no I needed to do more."

"As the third daughter of Earl no one ever expects much from me, unlike Mary who I sometimes think of as trapped in a cage of expectation," Sybil relayed to her cousin.

"Mary still loves you—you know?

Matthew quickly raised a brow and did not know what to say.

"I'm sorry, I probably shouldn't have said that, but I just want everyone happy." Then to shift the mood she said, "I think I made Mary a little jealous. I was quite taken by your heroics when you rescued me from that unruly mob at the bye-election. I still can't believe you carried me to the car and then into Crawley house? For days you were my very own knight in shining armor."

With that Matthew let out a laughed, "You are too generous with your bestowal of a knighthood. I wished I had earned that honor but no, I am not the one you should reward. Branson was first to try to calm the crowd and was in fact the one who carried you to the car and then into the house. Poor fellow, looked as if the world imploded when you crumpled to the ground. So you see, I am still just your cousin Matthew the humble solicitor from Manchester."

The clock struck 11 and Matthew had had a long day. Sybil rang for Thornton. "Lieutenant Crawley will be leaving," she informed the butler.

"So this is good-bye," Matthew said to his young cousin, now a young woman who he greatly admired for her zeal and courage.

"No, this is goodnight, I hate good-byes. And we will see each other again soon at Downton," she told him as she walked him to the door.

* * *

She went back to the library, took off her shoes, and picked up her glass of port from which she had not taken a sip. She stared intensely at the fire as it was slowly burning itself out.

She needed make sense of what Matthew told her about that day in Ripon. She was groggy. But she remembered confident arms encircling her waist and shoulders. For all the chaos swirling around her, she felt protected in those fleeting moments. Of course, it made perfect sense Branson had always been her protector.

Her thoughts then drifted to the day in September that Branson headed off to war.

She didn't want to say goodbye in front of her family and the staff, so she arranged to have him drive her Ripon the day before. On the way back she asked him to stop just outside the gate.

"Are you afraid of war, what might happen to you, what you will have to do?" she anxiously queried. They shared a degree of confidence that such a question did not seem impolitic for her to ask.

"No milady, I am mostly afraid of the worry it will cause for those who are left behind," he earnestly said. Then he added, perhaps as a way to change the topic "If we put all that energy into making peace, imagine the world we would have?"

"Indeed, what a world we would have. I promise you I will try to make it better," Sybil assured him.

"Ah yes, that would make me very happy. Milady, we best be getting you home or they'll be wondering if you've gotten into some more trouble. But since I'm leaving tomorrow I don't suppose his Lordship can sack me, now can he?" And they both started to laugh; he then turned around to get them home.

"Branson?" she said as put he began to put on his gloves.

"Yes, milady?" turning once again to her.

"I suppose this is good-bye?"

"No, let's just say this is goodnight, I don't rather like good-byes," he said as he looked into her eyes.

As she gazed back at him her sense of dread quickly melted away into a smile. "Goodnight then" she told her friend.

And the next day, as he came to her in the line of well wishers, they simply smiled at one another and shook hands. That afternoon she went to see Isobel to volunteer at the Cottage Hospital.

That happened over a year ago.

The solitude of the library engulfed Sybil. The embers dropped and quickly faded. She finally took a sip of port. Its fullness warmed her.

Thornton came in. "Might you be needing anything else, milady?" the butler inquired.

"No Thornton, I have everything I need." She put on her shoes and followed Thornton out of the room.

"Goodnight, milady."

As she slowly ascended the stairs Sybil turned said "You have a good night too."


	4. The Gift

Chapter 4 - The Gift

_This one has more Downton characters – am getting the hang of it. Enjoy! Comments and reviews always welcome.

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King's Cross station was a whirl of activity as trains steamed into the platforms and travellers disembarked, while other trains sat with their doors open waiting for passengers to climb aboard. Amidst the sights and sounds beneath the station's towering arches, Sybil waited for the noon train to Yorkshire.

It was Christmas Eve, so the station was particularly busy. She noticed far more servicemen milling about in the crowds than there had been in the summer. The military dress of all ranks lent a mossy hue that now dominated the swirling scene. And yet even amongst the uniformity, Sybil could still make out faces and voices, different intonations from all corners of the country, and on occasion the far reaches of the Empire. Who were these men? Where did they come from and where were they going? What happened to the women they left behind? And, as she now was in the habit of considering, perhaps because of the two hundred or more soldiers who had been through her ward, would they be coming back? She wished them all a safe journey.

The train was finally ready to board. Sybil found her way to her compartment and sat down. The train slowly lurched out of the station. Life, she began to understand, was filled with comings and goings.

Sybil preferred to take the train up to Yorkshire rather than bother her Aunt to have Pritchard drive her all the way to Downton, although Papa would have preferred it. She liked the time on the train to watch the countryside as it passed by and think about what lie ahead in the coming weeks and months. When she arrived at the small station in Ripon, Taylor, who had returned to his old job, as young men were scarce these days, was waiting for her with the car.

As they drove from Ripon to Downton the silence was deafening. She missed hearing the brash Irish radical, his opinions, his dreams. On trips like these, the car had become in many ways their sanctuary. It seemed paradoxical that in a house as big as Downton Abbey that this tiny car cab was the only place where someone from upstairs like her could find a space of equality with someone from downstairs like Branson; even though the front seat drew a boundary that neither had dared, for the most part, to cross.

Where was he out there? Sybil sighed. And as her mind drifted to the inevitable, would _he_ be coming back?

* * *

Carson was the first to welcome her home to Downton. "Good to have you home for the holidays, Milady."

"Good to be home, Carson" she said warmly. "You are well? And how is everyone else?"

"We are all fine. And given what's going on elsewhere in the world, certainly no worse for the wear," his bass-like voice filled the hall.

Isobel had also just arrived, so she was lingering nearby.

"Cousin Sybil how good it is to see you," Isobel said taking both of her hands and looking her over. "Yes, yes, Matthew was right, along with becoming an independent woman who knows her own mind – you have become a stunning young lady. He said how much your spirit reminded him of me."

And then she added much to Sybil's surprise, "He couldn't stop talking about your dinner party, how you had to fend off a gaggle of attentive officers. I do think he might have been a tad bit jealous. I dare say your sister might have a little competition."

"Oh, I assure you Cousin Matthew can spin quite a tall tale," as she downplayed the comment thinking Mary might be lurking nearby, "I do look forward to seeing him again."

"His train comes later today, he will be joining us for dinner," Isobel informed her.

And then her mother rushed to greet her youngest daughter.

"Sybil, I am so happy to see you home my dear."

"Mama, I missed you so much," she confessed as she kissed her mother on the cheek. "Has Papa arrived?"

"No my darling girl I am afraid to tell you, he won't be coming home this Christmas," Cora sadly informed her.

"That can't be, he must be here," she insisted against all hope.

"Now…now go upstairs. Dust off your train ride and come to the sitting room. I was just about the have tea with your Grandmother and Cousin Isobel, and I want to hear all about London and the hospital."

* * *

Later that day Sybil dressed herself for dinner in a simple green silk wrapped dress with shear tunic. Finished, she went in search her sisters, who had been in the village all afternoon.

That fateful day at the garden party where Lord Grantham announced that Britain had lost its peacetime, Edith had also lost Sir Anthony and Mary had lost Matthew. Since then relations between the two women had thawed, but only to the level of public civility between the warring Crawley sisters. The two could barely hold a conversation in private as there was still a glacier of suspicion, jealousy, and back biting that impeded the way. Deep down regardless of intentions or actions, both Mary and Edith merely wanted to love and to be loved. But the obligations of being a woman of rank with certain expectations and few choices had consigned both of them to a permanent state of unhappiness. And Sybil so wanted them both to be happy.

Edith she found in the hallway.

"Glad to have you home, I was on my way to tell mother about the charity work we did in the village today, so I will see you downstairs," Edith said as she gave her sister a hug and rushed off. Edith had become even more sullen than before the war, as she believed that she would only ever be second best in someone else's eyes or heart.

Mary she found in her room.

"Oh there you are. Anna is away till tomorrow. O'Brien just left; she was coming to your room next to help you get dressed. But it looks like you have already done the job," her older sister said as she turned around to give Sybil a kiss. "You are so self sufficient these days."

Mary turned back to the mirror to finish putting on her jewelry.

"How did you ever get dressed without the help of a lady's maid?" Mary asked.

"I dress myself most days. I typically wear one of two versions of the same blue uniform."

"Radical in dress and radical in everything else, my dear little sister. What ever will you think of next to shock us? You aren't going to tell me you've started cooking for yourself are you."

"Well I do make my own tea at the hospital and on occasion at home. The staff below have gotten used to it, I think they find it entertaining.

"I had this dress made in London precisely because I don't need help to put it on. My other little secret—I have stopped wearing a full corset. But don't tell Granny or she'll accuse me of being wanton and have me chained to my bedpost." Sybil twirled in front of Mary, "What do you think? Its modeled after the latest French fashion."

"_Tres chic,"_ Mary smiled at her beloved little sister, "Well at least you held onto your good taste, can't say the same for our poor dear sister."

"I saw Matthew in London last month." Sybil said to change the topic, which caught Mary by surprise as she held an earring dangling in mid air.

"Oh. And how was he getting along?" she asked trying to sound disinterested.

"Matthew was in good spirits. For a solicitor, he is great fun you know. I see why you _almost_ married him. We went to a wonderful dinner party at the house of Major and Lady Cowan. We were inseparable the entire evening."

Sybil threw in the last part to pique Mary's infamous jealousy. Mary always wanted what someone else had. She knew her sisters well. And with that epiphany she knew exactly what she would give them for Christmas.

"I will see you downstairs, there is something I must to do first," Sybil told Mary as she headed out of the room "I like the diamond earrings, they frame your face in a halo of light."

* * *

Formal dinners at Downton were far fewer and less grand than the ones before the war. Tonight, however, Mrs. Patmore had made this a special dinner to lift everyone spirits since Lord Grantham wasn't going to be home for the holidays. Not having Papa at the head of the table left a gaping whole in the family circle. Differences of opinions, failed engagements, and disappointments aside, they were all family and these ritual dinners reaffirmed that connection.

After the last plates were cleared everyone retired to the drawing room.

Sybil was happy to see Matthew again. She had grown fond of her cousin. They sat next to one another at dinner and continued their conversation over tea. Because Sybil spent part of her day reading or writing letters for the soldiers she had become quite knowledgeable about the different battles, regiments, and the changing tenor of the war effort. So she engaged Matthew in a lengthy discussion about his most recent deployment.

Edith talked to Isobel. Violet and Cora were discussing various charities and local gossip. And Mary stood by the fire stewing in her envy.

Just then a commotion could be heard in the entrance hall. It sounded like a man in distress, with poor Carson trying to find out what he wanted

"I just want to know is she alright…"

"If _who_ is alright?"

"Lady Edith."

"She is in the drawing room."

"What the devil do you mean 'in the drawing room'?"

Carson entered, "Pardon me, Milady." And whispered something in Lady Grantham's ear.

"Oh my, how strange," Cora said "excuse me," as she walked to the door. Sybil followed behind her.

Before they could get to the door, Sir Anthony Strallon bounded into the room and made a beeline for Edith who was now standing.

Strallon grabbed her hands, "Lady Edith, thank goodness you are safe!"

Edith blushed with confusion, "Yes, I am quite alright. Why wouldn't I be?"

"Well I received this note saying you had fallen in riding accident and near death's door. But I can see it must have been some bad prank. But who would send…? No matter I am just relieved to see that you are in good health."

"Sir Anthony," Cora interjected, "Since you've come all this way, please stay for tea, coffee or perhaps a whiskey is in order?"

Sir Anthony, still holding Edith's hand replied, "I'd like that very much. Thank you Lady Grantham and I apologize for causing such a stir."

"Why would one bother going to the moving picture house? If you want to see drama all you have to do is spend the evening in Downton's drawing room," Violet chimed in.

Sybil noticed that Mary had joined Matthew on the couch.

Her gifts to her sisters had been delivered.

* * *

It was Christmas morning and Sybil woke after nine, much later than her typical London schedule. She didn't bother ringing for O'Brien to help her dress. She got herself ready and headed down to breakfast.

As she walked down the stairs, she was pleased with the outcomes her two schemes—to make Mary jealous and Edith feel wanted. She will have to eventually apologize to Sir Anthony though, it was an awful note she had Taylor send around, but it did seem to accomplish its task. But she also wanted to see Mama happy to have all of her family around her this holiday in wartime. Why couldn't Papa be home?

She walked into the dining room and there sat her father at the table. At first she thought she was dreaming. But her mother immediately said, "Oh there you are, I was just going to send O'Brien up to wake you."

"You father arrived unexpectedly this morning and brought Mr. Bates with him-isn't this a wonderful surprise!"

"Oh Papa, this is the best surprise!"

Sybil ran over and hugged her father.

"Now we shall all be together for Christmas."

* * *

Sybil had rung for Anna to help her get dressed. For tonight's Christmas dinner she was wearing one of her older evening gowns and could not manage on her own. She couldn't always be independent.

She was happy to see Anna. Somehow Sybil felt that now she better understood the difficulties women, especially working class women, faced in the world of work. And she had a renewed respect and gratitude for Anna's abiding loyalty and sense of duty.

"Welcome home Lady Sybil."

"And welcome home to you too, I hope your family is well and that your little niece is adorable as all baby's should be."

"Ah yes, she is a lovely little thing and her four older brothers will most surely look out for her."

"And you must be happy that Mr. Bates is back home?"

"Indeed I am, milady. I'd no idea he and his Lordship were comin' home," Anna said as she laid out Sybil's dress. "His last letter said that he'd taken on more duties and was now workin' a bit in the Commander General's office. I tell you I dropped a whole stack of sheets when he walked in. Yes, I'm very, very happy."

Sybil took off her robe and prepared to step into her gown when Anna cried, "What in the world are you wearing milady?"

"Oh this, its called a 'brassiere'. Does the same thing as a corset without all the restriction and trouble," as Sybil pulled up her gown.

"Can't imagine that, doesn't seem to made of much o' anything! But I'll confess it does look like it'd feel much better."

"It does feel better and soon all women will have freedom in what they choose to wear and do with their lives."

"Well we've certainly missed your spirit 'round here. Between Mrs. Hughes and O'Brien not sure I'd know freedom if it rang the bell." The two women laughed as Anna finished hooking the back of her gown.

"Thank you Anna. And this for you, Merry Christmas"

She handed her a small box. Anna opened it and found a small cameo brooch inside.

"Oh milady, its beautiful. I don't know what I did to deserve this, but thank you."

"No, thank you, for always being there to help when I needed it. I thought you might wear it out when you see Mr. Bates next." Sybil smiled glad to see Anna liked her gift. She then went to her dressing table to fetch her gloves.

"Milady."

"Yes."

"And I have something for you." Anna pulled an envelop out of her pocket and it to handed Sybil.

"A letter? But from whom?"

"From Branson. He sent it to me and asked me to give it to you."

"Thank you, Anna. Thank you."

Sybil had been given the one gift that she truly wanted this Christmas.


	5. Your Friend

Chapter 5 - Your Friend

_I just had to write "the letter," I couldn't wait either. Thank you for the reviews. Enjoy!

* * *

_

Christmas day at Downton was always a festive occasion. And Cora wanted to make this holiday a special one.

After dinner ended and the staff had had their Christmas meal. Those from downstairs joined everyone upstairs in the hall to sing carols and have the delectable desserts Mrs. Patmore had prepared for everyone. Robert particularly looked proud of his family, his daughters all seem to be finding their place in the world. And even for a carpetbagger, as Granny would mumble at times, Cora looked absolutely regal in her beautiful ivory evening gown. As they all sang, Sybil noticed Anna holding the arm of Mr. Bates and that she had wore the new pin on the collar of her dress. Sybil was happy to see her family and the staff at Downton in good spirits, especially in a year when they had seen so many leave and some not return home.

Sybil bid everyone goodnight and retired to her room early. Anna followed her upstairs to help unhook her dress and she then quickly sent Anna back to join the others. She finished getting undressed, put on her nightgown, and braided her hair.

Then she crawled into bed to finally open her gift. In the warm glow of the candlelight she read her letter from Branson:

_14 November 1915_

_Boulogne, France_

_Dear Lady Sybil,_

_I trust this letter finds you in good spirits and that all is well with your family and everyone at Downton. I hope you do not mind that I am writing to you. I sent this letter through Anna to give to you because I do not want to get you into any trouble. If Mr. Carson tells his Lordship or her Ladyship that you received a letter from me, it may cause you unnecessary problems. And I do not want that to happen. You have parents who only want to protect their daughter from the difficulties of the world. That is why parents love their children so very much. They were the best employers any one could have ever asked for. I am grateful to have been a part of their household and do not want to step out of my place. But I feel we are also friends. And I believe that you would want to know that I am all right. _

_When I can, I write to my mother and family. But I try to keep it light, as I do not want them to worry. I am writing because I need to tell someone what is been happening out here where I am. I hope you do not mind being that someone. I mean no disrespect in writing to you. It is the opposite I have the utmost respect for your ideas, opinions and generosity._

_I cannot believe it has been fourteen months since I last saw you at Downton. I still remember your warm smile as everyone wished me well. I will never forget it or your kindness. I miss everyone there. And I miss our talks even more. I want to thank you for listening so patiently to my wild ideas about how the world should be. And thank you for not dismissing them as the rantings of a lunatic revolutionary. You made me believe that you too shared similar hopes for the world. This made me feel less alone in my dreams. _

_In what few newspapers that are to be had over here, I read that the women's movement has quieted down since the war began. To hear the other men of my regiment, they are terrified if women get the vote. They all want their women to do as they say. Many believe all women are capable of is cleaning and cooking for them and having their babies, as many as possible. They stubbornly believe if women get the vote then the next thing you know they will want to start running for political office. And next they will be running the world. Funny how they seem to forget that Victoria was their Queen not too long ago. The word is that back on the homefront many women are now working in the jobs that we have left. There are more women in factories and that many have become nurses. Change is happening. I am sure you are making it happen. And if we make it out of here it will be a different world we will come home to. _

_Although I want to imagine that Downton has not changed one bit. I hope the flowers were in spectacular bloom in her Ladyship's garden this summer. And I hope that the lake froze last winter so the village children could skate on it. I hope you are able to take long walks by the river in the coming spring as trees begin to turn that beautiful color of green that only lasts for a few weeks. I wonder if the fair came to town again or have most those men been sent off to the war? _

_I wish I could borrow books from his Lordship's library. I do have a few books with me, but it is always damp out here. I read when I can. Your father was very generous to let me read the books in his wonderful collection. I was impressed he even had a copy of "The Conditions of the Working Class in England" on the shelf. It was somewhat hidden, but it was there and I assume he has read it. This gives me hope that maybe his class will come around some day to see how too much wealth in the hands of the few means poverty for the many. Sorry to get on my soapbox. You were always there to listen. _

_Some days, I so yearn for one of Mrs. Patmore's scones. Much to Miss O'Brien's disapproval she would sometimes have Daisy bring one or two over to me in the cottage when they were fresh out of the oven in the morning and before they served upstairs breakfast. I hope Mrs. Patmore's vision has finally come back clear as a whistle. She was always, like everyone else, very kind to me. In my note to Anna that I sent with this letter I told her to give everyone my regards and that I am well. I hope Mr. Bates and his Lordship are faring as well as they can in their assignments. I am told through various connections that William is in a nearby regiment. Maybe I will see him if our regiments end up in the same battle. Not the best way to reconnect with an old friend is it? I have not heard about Thomas, but I suspect because he signed up with the medical corps he has avoided being sent into No Man's Land. That's what we call the ground between our trenches and the enemy ones._

_The trenches are all this war is about. We live in them, so we live in the battlefields. I have been promoted to corporal within a small unit of infantrymen. They're good lads, although we have lost a few in battle. War is hard work, harder than anything I could ever have imagined. It's not just the physical work that is hard. Mostly we just sit and wait. We wait day and night until its day again. What is more of a challenge is the hard work it takes to keep the mind steady. When you are waiting in the cold, the rain, and the mud all day, it helps to think of every good thing you can remember. I often think of your smile. I think about our talks, our debates. Out of the bits and pieces I can remember I make another world—where anything is possible, where there is hope, happiness, kindness, and love. _

_I look out into this wasteland and I try to fill my mind with memories of beautiful places. I remember one summer, when I was a boy, maybe five or six years old, the nuns took us for the first time to visit the seashore on the Atlantic side. From the cliffs you could see for miles. This is something you can't do when you grow up in my part of the city. So the fact that I could see forever and ever made me want to know what was out there, what was on the other side of that endless line. And the sound of the ocean, I try to remember that too. The waves made all of the noises of city disappear in one powerful roar after another. I can remember playing along the beach. I loved how my feet would leave tracks in the sand and a wave would come in and take them away. I did this again and again and watched them disappear. It helps me to recall that trip to the seashore. And sometimes I try to imagine this miserable battlefield as that innocent stretch of beach. The trenches are like the footprints that will be washed away with the tides of time. And as the tide comes in and goes out, the trenches will be cleared and this land I am sitting on will once again be calm and green. The saddest part is to know that the tide will take some of us out to sea never to return. _

_I so wish I could to hear your thoughts on the war. I want to know what you think about why men do these things to other men? You once told me that you thought it would be a different world if women ran it. Well I am inclined to agree with you. We would be much better off if women were in control of things. If what I have seen out here in this wretched stretch of earth is the best vision that men have to offer of the future, then I think we need women to change what that picture looks like. I know if you were in charge you would have everything in tiptop shape in no time and have all us working together toward one shared goal. I was impressed with your persistence in helping Gwen. You never gave up hope and made sure she didn't either. So if you won't give up hope on us humans than neither will I. _

_I wanted this letter to not be so gloomy. I do not mean it to be sad, for I am not. Maybe putting it all down on to paper is one form of letting it go. Knowing that you will read it is another. I feel you know me better than almost anyone. Your desire to know about my life back in Ireland makes me feel that you have been to my native land and that you have been a part of life since I can remember. You feel like an old friend to me. Isn't it strange how two people who you would never imagine as friends can end up sharing a bond that unites them across all borders of convention? I guess that is how change happens. _

_I only want to wish you all the best in life. I will always be indebted to your kindness._

_Your friend,_

_Tom Branson_


	6. Courage

Chapter 6 - Courage

_And so it continues with the "other letter." Let me know what you think. More to come and enjoy!

* * *

_

A streak of morning sun awakened Sybil. She arose with her mind swirling with what Branson had written in his letter to her.

_And I believe that you would want to know that I am all right._

He didn't want her to worry. That was so much like him to think of someone else while he was the one in harms way. But he was right; she had been worried. She did not know how to reach him or perhaps more accurately, if the boundary of decorum that drew their respective social positions discouraged attempts at contact on either side. All these months, her mind had been in such a fog about how deep her friendship with him had become, but no longer. It was as if reading his words had pried open her soul to unleash emotions that she wasn't yet sure how to name, except they gave her an overall feeling of immense joy.

"Milady," broke her intense reflection as Anna knocked to see if she was awake.

"Yes, Anna, please come in."

Anna walked in to see if she needed help in getting dressed.

"Will you sit down on the bed for a moment?"

Anna sat down noticing the letter on the nightstand. Sybil grabbed and gently squeezed both of her hands.

"Thank you. Thank you for forwarding Branson's letter. I couldn't tell anyone my fear that I…we might have lost him. And this letter puts my fears to rest. I also must thank you for not letting on to Mr. Carson. Branson did not want to get me in trouble. He was right in sending it through you and I appreciate your discretion."

Anna smiled and understood what she was witnessing (herself a woman in love.) "Tis no bother. Will you be needing my help?"

"No I can manage. I do most mornings."

"Oh my, we have become independent!" Anna replied with a little giggle as she left the room.

* * *

Sybil came down to breakfast still in a daze. And barely heard the conversation between Mary and Edith, which had overnight grown far more sisterly now that Matthew and Sir Anthony were back in the picture.

"Oh sorry, yes I will go with you into the village today. I told Cousin Isobel I would stop by the Cottage Hospital. Because its Boxing Day, they will be short handed, so I said I would pitch in. I'll walk back when I am done."

Robert gently kissed his youngest daughter on the forehead and told her, "Your mother and I are so very proud of your new found vocation. I must admit I was skeptical at first about letting you go to London on your own, but I can see quite a change in you. Its as if you have a new direction in life and you are all aglow with its possibilities." He then headed off to the library.

…_many have become nurses. Change is happening. I am sure you are making it happen._

But how did he know that she had become a nurse? Its as if he knows what I will do before I know it, Sybil thought as she opened the gate to Downton's Cottage Hospital

Sybil spent the day assisting Isobel and the other nurse on duty. She shared with her dear cousin new techniques of wound care she had learned and helped with some of the patients—injured soldiers convalescing locally. She also saw a few old patients who stopped by to wish the hospital staff well on the holiday. She was particularly happy to see one little girl that she had helped deliver. The child was a little over one year and now tottered around the hospital office pointing at everything to hear its name.

"That is a cup…"

"Ka!"

Even during wartime, Sybil reflected as she picked up the little girl and held her, life goes on.

_I hope you are able to take long walks by the river in the coming spring as trees begin to turn that beautiful color of green that only lasts for a few weeks._

Sybil walked back to Downton along the river absorbed in thought. Spring was her favorite time to walk this way home. And it was her favorite place to walk when she wanted to think things through. But she had never told him that, how did he know? She would sometimes see him as he drove Granny back and forth to the Dower house. As he passed she would wave and he would toot the horn.

She stopped at the gate before walking the last stretch of road and remembered their lengthy conversations while sitting in the motorcar.

_I often think of your smile_

She too often thought of his smile—when he would turn around to address her myriad of questions. She especially liked it when his smile broadened as he told her about life at back home in Ireland. And she thought about the beauty of his eyes whose clarity let her see the world anew through them. Ultimately she found it comforting that his presence was everywhere around the Downton's grounds, even in the dead of winter. She could thus always feel he was somehow close to home and near to her.

The following day Sybil bid farewell to all at Downton. She was pleased that their various assignments let Papa, Mr. Bates, and Matthew stay through the New Year, so the house would be full and lively. Her responsibilities at the hospital required that she return to London. But somehow she was relieved that the prospect of work would return her to the more mundane routines of her everyday life in the city. Taylor drove her to Ripon to catch the afternoon train back to Kings Cross Station.

She found her seat, put her bag in the rack, and sat down to reread Branson's letter, which by now she had almost memorized. She sat at the window in her train compartment staring intently at the barren landscape as it streaked by. Her mind began to turn over the darker revelations in his passages.

_...the tide will take some of us out to sea never to return_

She felt a sudden chill. She grabbed the scarf in her lap and wrapped it around her shoulders. How could he not be coming back…to her? She knew that death was a constant companion of soldiers at war. In truth she had not felt the sting of the loss of someone close to her family, close to her heart. How would she cope with never seeing, hearing, or being near him again?

But one of the lessons she learned from her radical Irish chauffeur was that facing your fears is the only way to conquer them. This will give you the courage and the strength to move forward, he had told her.

She then thought about the sea, the beach, the waves, and a young boy named Tom. She suspected even at age five his precocious behavior would have given the nuns a bit of a bother. She imagined him running and splashing in the water, tumbling in the sand, even though the sisters would have expressly forbidden it. Through these imaginings a feeling of optimism warmed her heart, a sense of calm began to wash over her face.

_make another world—_he wrote to her_—where anything is possible, where there is hope, happiness, kindness, and love._

She could finally name that feeling of joy that came from his letter, his gift to her. And then Sybil knew she must to write back to him, to connect with her kindred spirit, if only through written words.

* * *

Sybil came home around 8pm on New Years Eve. It had been a busy few days in the hospital and she took longer than usual to walk home in order to shed the stresses of the day. Her aunt was off to see friends, but she declined to join wanting instead to have a quiet evening at home. Thornton brought her a plate of sandwiches and tea into the library. She sat on the large sofa warmed by the fire and began to eat. When done she went to the desk and sat down. In the quietude of this place of refuge she began to write:

_1 January 1916_

_Belgrave Square, London_

_Dear Tom,_

_I have received your letter and I am please to know that you are well. Anna gave it to me on Christmas. It was the best gift I could have ever imagined. My dearest friend, thank you for sending it to let me know that you are all right._

_This Christmas at Downton was very special. My father was not supposed to be home with us, but he came by surprise on Christmas morning. He also brought Mr. Bates with him, so everyone in the house was very happy. Mrs. Patmore made a special Christmas cake for the evening's celebrations. Carson was especially vocal in song. I suppose now that we all know he once had a career on the stage he has chosen to be a bit more theatrical at these events. Although I think his recent musical turn has made O'Brien even more dour, will she ever venture a smile to crack her heart of stone? I even made a little mischief and figured a way to reunite my sisters with their beaus. I think you would have been proud of my cleverness. I hope Christmas was meaningful wherever you are._

_In your letter you said you were indebted to my kindness. But in fact it is I who is indebted to you, for the many things you have done for me and given me. For one, you risked your job that day at the riot in Ripon. I should have never put you in that position. My impetuous nature sometimes gets others in trouble. And I am deeply sorry if I caused you any distress or difficulty with my family. I also need to thank you for carrying me to the car and then into my cousin's house. I did not know it was you until my cousin Matthew informed me last month. While I drifted in and out of consciousness, I felt strangely protected and that I would be safe no matter what happened in the chaos around me. I now know who and why. You have always been there to protect me. I was so young and willful back then. I know it's not that long ago, but it feels like a lifetime since that afternoon. It's a wonder you could put up with me. I am sure I was not an easy charge. You were willing to risk my father's wrath so that I could experience the things that you intuitively understood as important to me. So I want to thank you for that._

_I also want to thank you for opening my eyes and mind to the world. I may have grown up in a sphere of privilege with nannies and governesses, but you have taught me more about ideas, people, and places than anyone else. You are far better read than I will ever be. I still have that long list of the books you thought I might want to read. I have recently finished reading "News from Nowhere." But books are one thing and life is something else. And our talks, those long talks in the car also taught me about life in ways that I could never have learned from a book. You taught me what a good life should and could be. I'd never in my sheltered existence at Downton thought of the differences between what women could do and what men could do or the vast gap between those who have wealth and those who do not. I simply took it for granted that that is the way things are and always have been. You taught me that those relationships are not a given, they are unequal and often unjust, and they can be changed. No, they should change. Women's rights and the election protests I now realize are the beginnings of a way to try to shift this imbalance. And you are right it will be a different world you come home to._

_But I am also trying in my own way to make a difference. When last we spoke you asked me why don't we make peace instead of war? And in response I promised you that I would try to make the world better. Well, I have become a nurse. I wanted to do more than knit socks and send around baskets to soldier's families. The day you left Downton, I went to volunteer at the Cottage Hospital. Cousin Isobel was so impressed with my abilities she recommended me for training at the military hospital at the University in London. I was afraid of leaving Downton the only world I knew. I was afraid I did not have the wherewithal to undertake the rigorous training to become a nurse or be on my own for the first time in my life. But you gave me the courage to face my fears. So I persisted and Mama and Papa finally relented. I have been living and working in London for ten months now. And I have begun to think that there is more I would like to do with the knowledge I have now acquired. I wonder if you would recognize me in my blue uniform and apron as that headstrong girl who pestered you from the backseat?_

_You asked me in your letter what I thought about the war. Everyday when I walk into the ward and see the soldiers lying in their beds, who will be replaced by more soldiers, and they too will be replaced, I wonder what good is this endless war? I hear the talk about how we should hate the Huns, the noble cause of Freedom, and the horror stories the newspaper headlines feed us, but I can't help thinking that somewhere out there is a ward on their side with some young woman mending their shattered bodies. Why is that men hate, hate enough to die for a cause? Or is the real truth those who hate send other men off to die for their causes?_

_I so long to talk to you about these things and more, I miss our time together. Please write me again as soon as you can. Know that I am thinking of you, hoping for a better world and for your safe return._

_Your friend,_

_Sybil Crawley_

It was 2AM when she finished writing. Sybil realized it was now a new year and a new beginning. She folded the letter into its envelope and went upstairs.


	7. Until Tomorrow

_Lots of big surprises in this chapter. Thanks for the comments and encouragement. Enjoy!

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Chapter 7 - Until Tomorrow

It was a bright spring morning as Sybil walked through the city on her way to the hospital. For the past three months, she had poured herself into her nurse's duties with renewed intensity. She wanted to learn as much as possible about medicine and patient care. She had excelled at her work and Nurse McBride had given her new duties that required some desk time sorting through ledgers and charts. She also now led the workshops that taught volunteers basic first aid, which meant some evenings she would stay late at the hospital. Under her arm she carried flyers seeking new volunteers that she would drop off at shops along her way.

Thankfully, the intense work schedule also meant Sybil did not have time dwell upon those things over which she had no control—where Branson might be was one. Earlier in the week her aunt had informed her that Claude Turner-Rumbold, "Bawdy Claudy," had been killed in a recent offensive. Since the war began, she had heard about the death of several of the young men who had been the debutantes' escorts at her first season in London. This war had lain to waste the promise of an entire generation. When would this needless slaughter of human souls end? She then tried to think of happier times.

Her family had come down to London in February to stay at Grantham House. Amidst the hectic schedule, she was delighted to be able to spend some time with Cora, Mary, and Edith. Her father was still in the South and could not join the family because of his training duties. But she was happy to have her sisters around and to tell her mother about her new responsibilities. In January, Sir Anthony had asked Edith to marry him and she had accepted. Sybil was pleased that Edith was now first in someone's heart and would soon be out from under her oldest sister's shadow. And Mary was regularly writing to Matthew. To her surprise, the tragically self-absorbed Mary had taken on the village charity work as her own personal mission, a development that pleased her mother immensely.

In March Cousin Isobel also made a trip to London. She came to visit the ward and Sybil gave her a tour of the facilities. Much to Sybil's surprise, Isobel developed quite a rapport with Nurse McBride, to whom she introduced as the head of the Cottage Hospital's board where she had worked rather than as her cousin. The two senior nurses even sat down to a cup of tea. One evening when Sybil finished her shift she went and dined with her favorite cousin at Isobel's hotel. Sybil learned that Matthew was well and had returned to France. Isobel suspected that he and Mary would be engaged by August. Sybil loved her sisters very much and was happy that her winter's labors would yield such robust fruits by the summer.

The cadence of her step quickly brought her nearer to the hospital. The early April air had a freshness to it that revived her spirits after the long blistering winter. The trees were beginning to bud their leaves. As she walked by the parks and squares she noticed the flowers beginning to sprout from the ground, new awakenings as the hard winter earth yielded. That is how she felt today, a new awakening. A bit drained by the passion she had poured into her work, but nonetheless filled with hope and optimism of the forthcoming months. Her heart warmed at the thought.

As she crossed Bedford Square, Sybil heard someone call out.

"Miss!"

But it was too late. She plowed into a soldier walking across her path and the flyers flew everywhere.

"Oh no" she cried, "I am so sorry, I'm always running into something or someone, please forgive me!"

The soldier, a sergeant she noticed, instantly bent down to pick up the flyers.

"No worries, Miss."

"Sergeant, I am sorry," continuing with her barrage of apologies.

After he had gathered the flyers, he stood up. The sergeant read one of them and handed the stack back to her.

"There you go Miss. You must be one determined nurse on a mission to find volunteers it would seem?" his slight brogue had surfaced.

She instantly recognized the voice, "Branson?"

He looked up "is that you…Milady?"

The two stared at one another for what seemed like a millennium, neither knowing what to say or do next.

"Are you in London visiting with your family?" he broke their silence "You're now a nurse?"

"No they are not here…and yes, I live and work here. Have done for almost a year," she said, still flustered and in a state of shock. "And you, what brings you here? I tried to…"

"I've been assigned for a few months to a Lieutenant–General, as his driver, if you can believe it? He had meetings with higher ups, so I am here in London for a week, then sail back to France."

That was all either could say for now, as both stood frozen at the unlikely manner in which their paths had crossed.

"And your family they are all well? And everyone at Downton?"

"Everyone is well," she was still trying to regain her composure.

"Did you ever get my letter?"

"Yes I did, Anna gave it to me Christmas Day. It was the best gift ever. Thank you." Then she added, "I wrote back to you, but I never posted it. There was no return address on your letter except Boulogne. I've been trying these past three months to find out where you were, so I could send it, but to no avail."

"Sorry, I wrote it over a few weeks. By the time I was ready to send it I was in the middle of being re-assigned. I couldn't have told you where because I didn't know myself," he replied.

Then a nearby clock chimed quarter till eight.

"Oh heavens, I must go or I'll be late, the head nurse will have my head on a platter. Would you," she started, "would you come see me later, when I finish my shift at 6 o'clock? Some of the orderlies promised to take a few nurses to a local pub you can join us. I am at the University's Military Hospital on Gower."

"Yes, I think I can" he smiled, "yes thank you, I'll be there at six," and then laughed at the thought of Lady Sybil Crawley in a pub.

She next opened up her purse and handed him the letter, she had carried it with her since the New Year, "And please would you read my letter before tonight?"

"Thank you, I will. Till then?"

"Yes, until then," she beamed and began walking on her way. She turned around to wave and perhaps to reassure herself it was Branson and not a dream. It was indeed a day of new awakenings.

* * *

Sybil made it to the ward a few minutes late and Nurse McBride gave her a disapproving stare that had her ducking darts all morning. But she quickly went about her duties. She tried to stay focused, but kept thinking about the extraordinary coincidence. Louisa even noticed that her friend seemed less attentive than usual.

"You alright?" Louisa asked over lunch.

"Yes, I am more than alright, but thanks for asking. I saw an old friend today, literally ran into him-poor fellow. He is going to join us later."

"An old friend," Louisa ribbed, "Well now I reckon we'll be lookin' in the mirror a bit longer than usual at the end o' the day?"

"Oh Louisa…he's not that kind of friend!" she replied, "well, at least _not yet_," she added. And the two nurses giggled as they went back to the ward arm in arm.

Six o'clock came around. She rushed to the nurse's area to tidy up and get her coat and purse. Sybil walked out toward the reception desk to meet their group and look for Branson.

And there he was waiting as promised. He was staring up taking in the beauty of the grand hall, how handsome he looked in his uniform she thought.

"Hello, Milady."

"Hello," Sybil said, followed by "Would you call me 'Sybil'?"

"Only if you'll call me 'Tom.'"

"I'd very much like that." Louisa then walked up. "Louisa I'd like you to meet my old friend _Tom_. This is my dear friend Louisa."

They joined the others—a nurse, Lottie, and two Army privates, Charlie and Jim, who worked as orderlies on the floor of the ward. The two men saluted Sgt. Branson and Sybil made introductions. The group then walked over to The Feathers, a nearby Pub.

As they entered The Feathers there were other hospital staff at the bar and tables. However, Sybil, Louisa, and Lottie were the only women inside, as pubs were still very much a man's dominion. Some heads turned, but most didn't seem to mind. They all settled around a table with Sybil sitting between Branson and Louisa.

A round of pints were ordered for all.

"To Sybil," Jim and Charlie rose their glasses "for bringin' a bit a lady's touch to tha world o' pubs."

"Here, here" Sybil, Louisa, and Lottie joined in.

Louisa explained to Branson that the Jim and Charlie had been enlisted by Sybil to escort the nurses to a pub.

"One small beer, you might say, in the battle for the women's rights," Sybil laughed.

Talk about the hospital, the ward, and avoiding the ire of Queen McBride ensued. Because of their injuries fighting on the Western Front, Jim and Charlie could no longer return to battlefield regiments, so they'd been sent back to England and reassigned to work in the military hospital. The two men after they finished their stories were curious where Branson had been, if he perhaps knew their units or some of their fellow soldiers. He filled in bits and pieces of the various battles he had fought in, and ended his story with his new assignment to drive a Lieutenant-General around for a few months.

"Well now, that's a plumb job—better'n the duty that we got emptyin' basins and bedpans. Once ya get shot take what they give ya—eh," Charlie joked. "I suppose ya was a driver before the war and know 'bout motorcars then?"

"Yes, yes I was a driver. I worked for a family in Yorkshire, they were very good to me," replied Branson keen on changing the topic.

Louisa elbowed Sybil and whispered to her, "so this is the soldier, your former chauffeur, you tried to find to send the letter—don't suppose there was ever a housemaid?"

Sybil squirmed at Charlie's last question to Branson, then at Louisa's who she had told that the letter to her family's driver she wanted to post was from one of Downton's housemaids. But much to her relief the conversation soon shifted.

Branson then leaned over to Sybil and quietly asked, "I take it they don't know about your family and Downton?"

"No, they don't. Only Louisa does. When I started at the hospital a year ago I just wanted to fit in and do my work."

"And from the sounds it you've done well."

"I have worked very hard. I didn't want to stand out because of who my parents were but because of the job I did. And I like the fact this uniform has somehow equalized things. Around here I'm just Nurse Sybil Crawley."

"Truth be told, this morning I didn't recognize you in your blue uniform till you looked up! I just noticed a young woman charging my way and before I could move out of the way, there you were, papers flying in the wind."

"In my state of full on embarrassment, I at least noticed you were a sergeant, congratulations on the promotion."

"Thank you. And yes, perhaps uniforms, in their own way, can make things more equal. I suppose to most folks looking over here, we are just a nurse and her soldier."

Sybil blushed at hearing _her_ _soldier_, "Yes, I suppose you are _my _soldier."

Branson smiled joyously.

Louisa observed them flirting, "Awww, come on you two."

* * *

Branson and Sybil walked Louisa home. And then the two headed to Belgrave Square. On the way she talked about her life in London, what she has discovered about the city, medicine, and herself.

"While I had to twist my father's rules to gain some degree of independence, these walks I think have been therapeutic, allowing me to find a moment of peace with all that is happening in the world. Sometimes I lose myself so in deep in thought…"

"…you bump into things or people, like when we ran into one another—what were you thinking about?" Branson asked.

"I had been thinking about death and rebirth. I know not exactly the frivolous fantasies of new dress typical of a girl my age." She continued, "I found out one of the officers I knew, one of the escorts at my first season here, had been killed in a recent offensive. I had seen him not long ago at a dinner party with Cousin Matthew in November. We were all so gay. He was a mischievous fellow, Claudy, always on the prowl, but filled with life. And now he's dead. It seemed like such a waste of a bright young life. They are all bright young lives being extinguished by this senseless war."

Then she added, "We don't lose many on my ward, but I have watched men die. I've noticed it's as if their eyes are open seeing the world, but their mind is in a dream and then they're gone."

Sybil fell distant as the two walked on.

"And your dreams, tell me about your dreams?" he asked drawing her out.

"Dreams. Yes I suppose it is possible to have those even amidst this insane war," she brightened, "I've not told a soul but once the fighting ends, once everyone is home and safe, I plan to become a doctor. That is why I have been working so hard at my nursing duties. I know it sounds quite mad the daughter of an Earl a doctor, but I want to help women, in particular. At the Cottage Hospital I watched how some of the visiting doctors treated the women patients—ignoring them as if they didn't know anything about their own bodies. I think I can do it differently, I know I can do it differently. There is so much more that can be done."

"I know you will become the finest doctor, you can do anything."

"I haven't told anyone, except you. I can't imagine what Mama and father will say. But I suspect Granny will blame my hare-brained scheme on my bad American blood."

"It's a courageous choice. Anyway given the way you almost ran me down," he joked, "I'd like to see them try to stop you!"

And they both began to laugh as they turned the corner into Belgrave Square.

"Thank you—you have a way of turning my sadness to joy," Sybil told him as she stopped in front of her Aunt's house and they turned toward one another.

"Well you've done much the same for me—your letter, its honesty, made me believe that living your dreams was still possible. I had no idea that my speeches had such an impact upon you. I am glad."

"Your generosity, your caring changed my life; you made me realize things, that I could do things I never knew possible. And I will forever be grateful."

And both looked intently at the other. Neither wanting to say "good-bye," knowing there was so much they wanted and needed to say. He opened the gate and she stepped in.

"I've blathered on about myself and I want to know about you, where you've been. Tomorrow will you come meet me again at the end my shift?"

"Yes, I will. I'll come tomorrow at six o'clock, till then Sybil."

"Tom," she smiled warmly, "until tomorrow."


	8. New Awakenings

_Inspired by Valentines Day. Any and all comments welcome! Enjoy.

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Chapter 8 – New Awakenings

As Sybil prepared to leave her Aunt Rosamond's house the following morning, she asked Thornton to please inform her aunt that she had a training session this evening, she would be home late and not to worry. She also carefully folded a dress and put it in her bag, so that she could change out of her uniform before she met Branson.

Tonight she would break at least two of her father's rules. Although she weighed the necessity of even adhering to his dictates given how well she had done in the last year at being more and more on her own. In some respects she was a woman of her own means, her independence had given her the courage to want to pursue a career in medicine. Anyway if she had to explain her whereabouts she could rationalize to her aunt that Branson was a kind of "chaperone" given his former status as a family employee; she'd at least give it a try if she had to.

She knew her friendship with the family's former chauffeur had crossed many boundaries of what society defined as "proper." Granny would absolutely burst a corset stay if she had any inkling her granddaughter had become very close to one of the staff. But those ideals no longer seemed to matter to her she realized. The world had changed. Something in her had awakened. It was her life and it was going to be what she made of it.

* * *

In what seemed like an endless day of pure drudgery due to a stream new patients coming into the ward, Sybil was keen on it ending as soon as possible. At the close of her shift Sybil changed out of her uniform and into a simple lavender dress. She also put on her favorite pearl earrings (the ones she liked to wear with her harem pants.) Louisa stayed a few extra minutes to help her friend do her hair, which looked particularly disheveled after today's tough shift.

Louisa informed her, "I'm a head house maid in a hotel, never done the job of a lady's maid, but I used to do my mums hair all the time. So let's see."

When done, curls pinned, Sybil looked radiant. Even Nurse McBride, who had walked into the nurse's area and upon seeing her young apprentice "My, my don't we look like a Lady." Louisa and Sybil had to hold back their laughter at the irony. She thanked her friend, then grabbed her belongings, and swiftly ran down the hall.

As he waited near the front desk, Branson charmed the attentive albeit nosy receptionist Nurse Starr. Sybil arrived looking as if she were an oasis of lavender warming the dull colors of winter.

"Nurse Crawley, you look very beautiful this evening" as he beheld her, and then he added "Milady" in a whisper as he helped her into her light grey wool coat.

"Thank you Sgt. Branson, you should have seen me a short time ago I was a disaster, it was a particularly grueling day. But Louisa helped put me back together. She's a dear. I'll have you know, it's been many months since I've had a lady's maid. You'd be proud, I can even cook—toast and tea to start. But don't tell my sister Mary she has already threatened to disown me!"

"I'm impressed with your new found independence." And he was. This wasn't the young rebellious daughter of an Earl that he had driven around two years ago she had blossomed into a confident independent modern woman—full of opinions and surprises. She now radiated a confidence and an allure that he found most seductive.

"Goodnight Nurse Starr."

Nurse Starr replied to Sybil as she and Branson headed toward the door, "Goodnight Nurse Crawley, ya better hold on ta that one there, he's a keeper."

* * *

Sybil and Branson decided to go back to The Feathers. It was nearby, they could eat something and most importantly they could talk. They found a quiet table in the rear of the pub, sat down and ordered some food.

Perhaps realizing they'd never really been alone together, a moment of awkwardness crept in between them. Both started to talk at the same time:

"I…"

"Do you suppose…"

In the past they'd always had their respective social roles as a working class Irish chauffeur and the aristocratic English lady in waiting to guide the formalities of their discourse. Now they really were just a soldier and a nurse caught up in the storm of war, Tom and Sybil—a man and a woman. Both felt liberated from obligations and conventions. They were finally free, at least for now, to say anything, but where to start.

"Have you heard from your family, your mother?" she asked.

"I received one letter in February. She's fine, as are the little ones. They miss their older brother. She wants me closer to home now that my father is passed away, but I think she is proud that I am out from under the blistering poverty and that I can send money home to help."

"It must have been such a contrast to work in houses where people like me have so much knowing what it is like to have so little?"

"Yes the gap is extreme and unjust even, but in the end they're only things. And having all of that wealth I've noticed doesn't always make people happy. In some ways it can be more of a burden than having little or next to nothing."

"Yes, my poor dear sister Mary is weighed down by it all, but I think she is learning to be happy. She has taken on more charity work in the village. And Cousin Matthew is devoted to her.

"Good for her. Now tell me about your day, I want to know everything about Nurse Crawley."

'It was a very demanding day. We had several new patients come into the ward. I think there is a big spring offensive from what we get from the soldiers. When this happens their wounds are fairly recent, most are sent to the hospital for some form of surgery, so we have to change their dressings more often. It can get very busy with no time for tea and I am quite hungry. I would so love one of Mrs. Patmore's pies right now."

"Ah, her pies I miss them too. Do you get to know your patients?"

"Yes, you do develop relationships of sorts, you learn their names of course. They come and go. I sometimes will write letters for them, so I find out about their families, loves and lives. As you know I like to hear about far off places, so I don't mind it. And they also tell you stories about where they've been in battle—sometimes I think they tell us nurses because they don't want to tell their families."

"Yes there are some things about war that you can't put into a letter."

"Now tell me, how did you end up being reassigned? I noticed you didn't want to talk about it to Charlie and Jim last night."

"Well you know these reassignments, they don't last forever. I'll most likely be back in the trenches in a couple of months. I…I" Branson struggled to finish.

"There is something else, I can feel it. You can tell me anything. We are _old friends_ aren't we?"

"Yes we are old friends. You have no idea how important your friendship has become to me," he earnestly told her. "You've always been there to listen to me, even my long rants about politics and the like, and I value that immensely."

"You are very passionate about so many things, that's what I like about you."

"The truth is I haven't talked to anyone since it happened. Truth is I was in Boulogne as my letter said. But I was in a hospital, a field unit. I was recovering from being wounded—bullet to the shoulder, small bit of shrapnel. I wanted to tell you in my letter, but just as you said—I didn't want you to worry."

Stunned at his revelation, Sybil merely listened.

He began to tell her the story. "They send you off to war in a big parade, cheering crowds, colorful flags and bunting. You are told this war is a noble cause for King and Country—that is until you get there. Those memories of the sounds of the parade are soon drowned out by the deafening noise of exploding shells, and the flags end up caked with mud and blood. The other side of that myth is the waiting, the endless waiting in the muck, with some of us knowing we're just waiting 'round for our own deaths."

He stopped for a moment. He stared at his hands as they rested on the table. "That day we had to take the German trenches. I led a group of soldiers in the charge. My men were being cut down like pheasants in a hunt. Then it happened so quickly. In an instant the sound, the smell, the pain—I got hit in the shoulder. But I did manage to drag four of my men back to our trenches. Three lived; one poor lad didn't make it. I got a medal and a promotion for saving their lives. Our side was victorious that day, despite the fact my unit lost a third of its men. We were lucky, in some ways. Whole battalions were wiped out—privates, officers, the whole lot. Now they are buried who knows where in some bloody foreign land. I often think of their wives and mothers. Honor is a sorry replacement for a dead husband or son."

Then he added, "But I survived, just a little broken in places. My shoulder's not yet healed completely, so I was reassigned temporarily. I don't mind driving the Lieutenant-General its good to have something to do with my hands. But now the sound of anything loud or piercing, a backfire of a lorry, sends shivers down my spine. I'll be all right, the mind I suppose takes longer than the body to heal. That is why lying in my bed in the hospital I imagined the sounds of the ocean, the waves rolling into the shore. It's a way to float toward the calm, to quiet the noise. Its peaceful—like your eyes."

All of the color had drained from his face when he finished.

She had never seen this side of him. She gently placed her hand on his—to remind him of the warmth human compassion. They hadn't held hands since that innocent moment at the garden party almost two years ago. He grasped her hand tightly as if letting go meant he would fall into an abyss. He had always been her protector. His strong arms around her fending off the crowds at the protests or carrying her limp body through the rabble at the bye-election riot. But now she was his.

"I'm here. Know I'll always be here, if you need me and I can help," she reminded him. He looked up and into gazed longingly into her eyes.

"Thank you, my dearest friend. My..." he didn't finish, he simply said, "I think I'd best be getting you home."

He kept hold of her hand and helped her stand. She put on her coat and hat. And they left arm in arm, still holding hands.

* * *

The crowds on the streets began to thin as the evening drew to its close, Sybil and Branson walked through the city. They talked about Downton. He asked her about everyone downstairs—Mrs. Patmore, Carson, Mrs. Hughes. He glad to hear Anna saw her beloved Mr. Bates at Christmas. And he told her he had heard that William was well and had survived the same battle in which he had been wounded. She explained her Christmas machinations to reunite her sisters with their loves. Wandering and talking, they were lost in their reminiscences. They eventually found themselves standing by Thames.

"When I need a happy thought, I sometimes imagine a small boy named Tom playing on the seashore," she told him.

"Oh do you," he laughed. "I'm glad that makes you happy."

"I envision him tumbling in the sand, chasing the waves. I bet he was a precocious child, full of energy and endless questions. I suspect the nuns had their hands full."

"I just had my own sense about the world even as a child, I wanted to know everything. I still do."

They looked out over the water. She pulled her coat tighter for warmth and he gently placed his arm around her drawing her close.

"Yes there is so much to know." And she turned toward him, easing her arms around his shoulders. She looked at him, "I want to know if…"

"…I love you?" he said.

"Yes…how do you know what I am going to say?"

"I love you with all that I am," he gently replied, as tears welled up in her eyes.

Both of his hands reached up to cradle her face and gently wipe away her tears, "I love you Sybil Crawley, I think I always have from the day you, your sister, and mother hopped into the backseat."

She began to laugh and the tears stopped. Her smile, soft and alluring drew him in to lightly touch his lips to hers. This first kiss was brief, sweet.

They broke their gaze and looked down as if to acknowledge the long-standing borders of class and social rank that had just been transgressed. But neither seemed to care, they were secure in the warm comfort of each other's arms and the love they now shared.

"I think I fell in love with you, Tom Branson" she then joyously said, "that day in the motorcar when you handed me Mrs. Pankhurst's _The Rights of the English Woman_. No one had ever thought of me as a woman, a thinking independent woman."

And she returned his kiss, but this time longer and more passionate.

They stood locked in an embrace, enveloped by the safe darkness of night. They were lost in a space of solitude that they alone occupied—a space of refuge from everything—the war, Downton, family, rank, duty, and expectations.

Big Ben chimed ten.

With all the strength he could muster to end one of the happiest moments in his life, Branson looked at her and sweetly told her "my dearest friend," kissing her on her forehead, "my darling Sybil, I really must get you home."


	9. Beyond the Casual Solitudes

_Endings and new beginnings. For a first fanfic this has been fun to write - thanks for the comments and reviews. Enjoy!

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Chapter 9 – Beyond the Casual Solitudes

Sybil walked into her aunt's house close to 11 o'clock and she was promptly greeted by Mr. Thornton.

"Good evening, Milady. I trust your volunteer session was a success," the butler inquired.

"Thank you Thornton. It's been a very busy day. I am not yet ready to retire and think I will read for a while. Would you mind building up the fire in the library?"

"No milady. I will get Joseph to attend to it. Will you be needing anything else?"

"No. I think I will go make myself some tea. Thank you and thank Joseph. Goodnight."

"Goodnight milady. Oh by the way, Mrs. Welkins left some biscuits on a plate for you, in case you were hungry and wanted something with your tea."

Over the course of the year the staff at her Aunt's house had gotten use to her free-spirited niece about the house, which included her unconventional forays into the kitchen or reading into the wee early hours in the library. They didn't seem to mind. They enjoyed answering her questions, as she was always respectful of their work and grateful for their assistance.

Sybil went down to kitchen, fired up the stove, and put on a kettle of water. The kitchen was considerably smaller than the one at Downton, so she found it easier to navigate on her own. She found Mrs. Welkins' biscuits and set up a tray for the tea. All of the staff had long been asleep upstairs, so it was quiet. Perhaps this is what she liked about having the run of the place, the peacefulness. She went to the rear door, unlatched it, and let Branson in.

"Are you sure everyone is asleep? Mr. Thornton? You know this is madness, I don't want to get you in a heap of trouble," he cautioned.

Their profession of love was still only a few hours young, yet both realized that each had been in love with the other for quite a long time. Enthralled by this new extant feeling neither wanted to say "good-bye," so Sybil came up with this plan. If anyone discovered them, however, it would end Sybil's career in London and disgrace her in the eyes of her family and their social circles; Branson would most certainly lose his Lordship's valuable reference for future employment. But both were willing to risk it to be together for a few more hours.

"Thornton went upstairs and Joseph should be finishing shortly. Here, take off your coat and sit down while I finish the tea."

Branson watched her find the various utensils and ingredients in the different stores and cabinets. He still couldn't believe this scene in which the daughter of an Earl was rattling around downstairs looking for a tea strainer, but then this was no ordinary woman and he had fallen in love with her and all her quirky sensibilities.

"I am sure you are ready to laugh at this sight of the Earl of Grantham's daughter in the kitchen?"

"Well you'll have to admit it's an unusual sight."

"If Granny saw me I am sure she'd have me hauled off to a convent, blame it on my bad American blood. Mrs. Patmore would surely chop my fingers off if I came near her stove. Mama would be distraught at her daughter "the cook." But I enjoy doing these things. No disrespect to the staff and their hard work. But I find it more fulfilling to do these tasks for myself."

"Sounds like gaining your independence has changed parts of your life you didn't expect."

"That's very true. And maybe its something I've learned from you and looking at what someone like Gwen could do when freed from convention. Standing in a crowd protesting for women's rights is one way, but I realize that to enact change women will have to do the hard work themselves. Where is that strainer…oh here it is."

As Sybil finished preparing the tray, Branson stood up, walked behind her and wrapped his arms about her waist.

"I am proud of you and every one of your accomplishments, when next I return you'll be cooking for the whole house." He kissed her softly on her neck.

"Don't get too ahead of yourself, Sgt. Branson," she taunted and relaxed into the warmth of his body.

* * *

Sybil carried the tray up the stairs and Branson followed behind. She went into the library first to check that Joseph had left and Thornton had retired for the evening, then she retrieved Branson from the stairwell. They sat on the sofa as Sybil poured the tea. He looked around the room taking in its beauty. It was smaller than the library at Downton, but its wood paneling lent a warm sheltering feeling to room as if one were in the midst of a clearing of tall trees.

"This is my sanctuary. I've been able to read several of the books you recommended while nestled on this sofa. Papa will certainly be surprised when he finds _Looking Backward_ in his sister's library. I do understand why he spends so much time in the library at Downton. Its peaceful, I like that best. And there are a thousand other worlds in those volumes."

"Yes your father has a wonderful collection of history, science, politics, and philosophy. I was grateful that he let me borrow his books whenever I wanted. As I said once, he really is a good man. You are lucky to have him as your father."

"Indeed I am fortunate in so many things," she smiled at him. "You know how busy Downton can be, people are always scurrying about the house, visitors in and out, day and night. And the streets outside here are bustling with crowds and motorcars. But in here there is quiet and solitude. I spend hours by the fire reading, thinking, daydreaming."

"And what do you daydream about?"

"Can't you guess?" Sybil blushed as she handed Branson a cup.

"Thank you," as he took a sip and sat back.

"Sybil, here's a thought—you asked me in your letter 'why men hate?'"

"I did. Can you tell me? As I tend to their wounded bodies, I ask myself 'why do men imagine these violent acts to inflict on other men?'"

He thought for a moment and said, "Hate, like love I suppose, is a very powerful emotion. It's easy to be swept up in its grasp. You know most of the men in the trenches are good decent lads, working men who just want to be home with their families. Sometimes at night I imagined that the men on the other side of No Man's Land were much the same. And yet there we were waiting to kill and maim each other."

"The wounds I've seen—some are horrific—I wonder who thinks of these ways to slice through human flesh?" Sybil asked as she put down her teacup.

"I don't know. The modern guns and motorized weaponry in this war can blow a body to little bits," he said, "By the likes of my wound they've given it a lot of thought," he replied shrugging his left shoulder to relieve a tinge of pain.

Sybil noticed his discomfort and could feel him drifting away, "Tom, does it hurt much. Did it hurt much?"

"When I woke up in the hospital my entire left side was numb. It could have been worse, a few inches lower and it would have been my heart. And you'd never see the likes of me again. But it has healed more or less, just a little stiff at times."

"Might I take a look at it?"

"You want me to show you my wound?"

"Yes. I am a nurse and I want to be a doctor."

"You are full of surprises." But he understood her professional interest and agreed. He began to unbutton his shirt and revealed his left shoulder.

Sybil looked at the crescent shaped scar on the arc of his front shoulder. "You had a very good surgeon. He made clean cut and tight sutures—good technique."

"My you do know your craft Nurse Crawley."

"We get a good deal of patients with similar wounds, mostly bullet and shrapnel to the torso," she said and reached up to touch the scar. "Yes he did a very good job indeed, your scar should be almost invisible with time…"

As she lightly traced her finger on his skin Branson turned his head toward the fire. She was surprised by the effect her touch had upon him. "…it should heal very nicely," as she observed his reaction.

He reached for her hand and brought it up to his lips and kissed it gently.

Sybil noticed the beauty of his strong muscular chest and the tautness of his arm—whose strength had carried her injured body to the car. His skin glowed in the firelight.

Sybil then did something completely unexpected. She leaned in and kissed his scar. Branson breathed deeply and closed his eyes at her gesture. He stood up and held his hand out to help her up. He then drew her body towards his into a passionate embrace. She found immense pleasure in the feel her neck against his bare skin. She began to slowly ease her hands inside his shirt to feel more of his warm body.

He walked her over to the carpet in front of the fire and the two sat down facing one another. They stared intently, but neither uttered a word about their growing intimacy. The flickering light of the hearth opened a space of desire in the darkness of the room.

Sybil reached toward him and slowly slid his shirt completely off. He wrapped his arms around her and drew her closer, both breathing deeply. He then pulled away and began to unbutton the front of her dress. She removed it to reveal her undergarments. As he took in her magnificent shoulders and arms, he slowly leaned her back onto the carpet and drew her into a long kiss, this time each exploring the other with the deepest passion.

The weight and warmth of his body made her feel a fire inside that she couldn't yet describe, only that she didn't want him to stop. He kissed her neck and stroked the side of her waist and outer thighs with his hand. Her hands wrapped around his body and she enjoyed caressing the solidity of his back.

Then Branson suddenly rolled off of her, "I think we should slow this down."

"I don't want to. I need to feel..."

"Yes, my darling I do too. But …"

"I am young, I know, but I love you and I am ready," she implored.

"No it's not just that. I don't want our first time to be here like this, rushed,"as he turned himself on his side and propped his head up on his elbow. "I want it to be special and in our own time. Not when I will leave you the next day. I couldn't do that to you, my love."

Sybil sighed and grabbed his hand. She knew he was right. He would be gone tomorrow and she would miss him terribly. She never wanted this night to end.

'You always put others before yourself, you are more wiser than I, and that is why I love you. How I love saying 'love,' my love," she giggled as she played with his fingers.

"You are now being silly."

"No just being a woman deeply in love." And he leaned over to kiss her sweetly.

"I can see it in your eyes."

And she now knew what he had sought in her eyes.

They dressed and went back to the sofa.

As he sat down Branson picked up the book sitting on a table behind the sofa and asked "is this what you were reading?"

"Yes, it's a book of poetry by an American named Wallace Stevens. I'm sure Granny would have me read only Wordsworth or Blake, but I like the modern tone of his poems."

"Will you read one to me?" Branson asked as he began to recline on the couch pulling her over to lie down next to him.

"If you wish, let's see, this is one of my favorites, its titled "Re-statement of Romance"

_The night knows nothing of the chants of night._  
_It is what it is as I am what I am:_  
_And in perceiving this I best perceive myself_

She looked up at him and continued:

_And you. Only we two may interchange_  
_Each in the other what each has to give._  
_Only we two are one, not you and night,_

_Nor night and I, but you and I, alone,_  
_So much alone, so deeply by ourselves,_  
_So far beyond the casual solitudes,_

_That night is only the background of our selves,_  
_Supremely true each to its separate self,_  
_In the pale light that each upon the other throws._

A tear fell from her eyes as she finished.

He lifted her face and kissed her tenderly. "Remember I love you with all that I am. And I always will, no matter what happens. We two _are_ one."

"I can't lose you, not now. I love you too much."

"Don't be afraid, you won't lose our love, as you will have it with you always. I promise."

As the fire slowly burned, they stayed in each other's arms for the rest of the night. He pulled his jacket over her as she laid her head on his chest. Neither slept. He listened to her breathe. She felt his heartbeat.

* * *

They heard the first sounds of the day in Belgrave Square—a motorcar, then a horse drawn cart. They both knew the staff would soon be awake and realized that they would finally have to part.

"I'd better leave before the house maid comes in to start the fire."

"I don't want this night to end."

"Its not ending, for us tonight was a beginning," he reassured her.

"Tom, I will think about you all day and night. You will be in my thoughts as you sail back to France tomorrow. Know that I am always thinking of you."

"We've both been made better by having known each other. You've changed my life. But there is so much we still have to consider, your family and mine. We are not the most conventional lovers. We come from different worlds. But this is the best start I could have ever imagined for us."

They stood up in the dark room and kissed one last time—it was as if each was drawing his or her last breath from the other.

Sybil quietly opened the library door and holding hands they crept into the hallway, then into the vestibule.

"Sybil," he whispered, "I love you." Kissed her hand and said "Goodnight, my dearest friend."

"Goodnight, my love."

She then let Branson out through the front door. He turned back and smiled, then walked down the stairs through the gate. She watched as he crossed the square and was finally out of sight. She wasn't afraid as she knew somewhere deep in her soul that he would be coming back.

As the day broke the quiet of the night, their story hadn't ended it had only just begun. She remembered the poem:

_Nor night and I, but you and I, alone,_  
_So much alone, so deeply by ourselves,_  
_So far beyond the casual solitudes,_

_*FIN* (to be continued…)

* * *

_

_I may do a follow up story, but this is where I will leave this one._

_And one small anachronism – Wallace Stevens was alive during WWI, but this poem is from the 1920's – it's a favorite so I had to weave it in._

_Thank you!_


	10. A Leap of Faith

_I just couldn't abandon these characters, they are so much fun to write. Although it draws from the previous chapters, this is a new story arc for Sybil and Branson under the title "Against All Odds." Lots of angst and romance to come. Comments and reviews welcome. Enjoy!

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AGAINST ALL ODDS

Chapter 10 - A Leap of Faith

October 1917. In the middle of the large laboratory stood a rapt group of fifteen women all wearing white smocks. They gathered around a large table upon which had been laid out a female cadaver. The room was well lit and the teacher was methodically taking the group through a dissection of the lower abdominal regions. Today was particularly tough on Sybil Crawley. Her typical days were long and even more grueling than her nurse's training and duty had been. She had spent time earlier in the week studying specimens in the medical museum, but she had so much to remember, so much to still learn. Dr. Kentridge was being demanding on the young women in the anatomy course as he asked them questions. Perhaps the old codger was thinking that even after 45 years of women in the field that they would never equal the top male physicians. It had been almost a year since Sybil began her medical training, and she was determined to get through this one difficult class.

But through it all she remembered what Tom Branson, her lover and former family employee, had said to her almost a year and half earlier, _"I know you will become the finest doctor, you can do anything."_ With his unwavering belief in her abilities, she had the confidence that she could finish the rigorous medical training required to become a doctor and try to improve the lot of those less fortunate. He had faith in her and she knew he was proud of her. Remembering his smile, his laugh, his scent spirited her away to a place of profound happiness. These recollections always balanced any challenge that was put before her, including naming the various skeletal components of the pelvic region for Dr. Kentridge.

* * *

To get into the School of Medicine for Women, which was affiliated with the University that ran the military hospital where she had worked as a nurse, there were three things that Sybil had to do. First, she had to apply and be accepted. This was not an easy task. The other women in her class had come from a range of backgrounds, mostly upper middle class daughters of doctors, but almost all had done at least two years of University before starting their medical training. Given she had not gone to University, Sybil had been given a special dispensation because of her previous experience as a nurse. Much of this was made possible through the kind assistance of Dr. McNeil who taught a course at the unique school for training women physicians.

Dr. McNeil had also been one of the regular physicians in the military hospital and had befriended Sybil as he tended patients in her ward. He had asked the young nurse to tea one afternoon and she agreed. She was fond of him, as he had always been willing to explain various diagnosis and she wanted to know more about his work. He was a pleasant man in his late 30s, who had been in the military but was now back home serving as an attending physician around the various wards. When Sybil told the doctor of her interest in medical school, he promised he would see what he could do for her. His assistance was extraordinary generous, and Sybil doubted that without his help she stood a chance of being accepted.

He offered his highest recommendation in regards to the conscientiousness and dedication of this particular nurse, Dr. McNeil had told the admissions board. Also given how quickly Nurse Crawley had mastered various aspects of her duties, something he learned from Nurse McBride (a surprise to Sybil,) McNeil was convinced the young nurse had the aptitude and ambition to become a doctor. The admissions board accepted her into the two-year program, and upon completion of this phase she would then have to spend additional time training in a hospital. She was grateful for the support of Dr. McNeil, and Nurse McBride as well, and thanked them both.

* * *

Now with that first obstacle out of the way, the second hurdle had been to tell her family, namely surmount the objections that her parents would most certainly lay in her way. Sybil had taken the train home to Downton in July of 1916 during one of her father's leaves from his training duties. She wanted to let her parents know about these latest developments.

"I have been accepted to the School of Medicine for Women in London and I plan to become a doctor," Sybil confidently informed them shortly after she arrived. She had called Lord and Lady Grantham into the library to give them the news.

"You are going to do what?" was the response from Cora and Robert in concert, both in disbelief at her latest announcement.

"I plan to become a doctor."

"Oh no, no, no we let you go for the nursing, because we thought it was a good thing for the war effort and that you would get this rebelliousness out of your system. I still haven't forgiven you for that bye-election debacle or that brash young chauffeur for that matter," he raised in protest. "I am sure Cousin Isobel is at the bottom of this scheme," alleged Robert, baffled and annoyed by his youngest daughter's latest plan.

"We were so hoping that you would return to Downton and soon get married, perhaps settling nearby. And now you want to pursue a career in medicine?" Cora asked.

"Yes. This very important to me, I want to help people. I think that women especially require medical care that takes their needs into account. And no Cousin Isobel had nothing to do with my decision, I have been thinking about it for well over a year." She didn't dare tell them that it was really Branson who had given her the courage to pursue this ambition. If they found that out at this point she was sure she would be imprisoned in Downton's attic never to see the light of day ever again.

"Well that's noble and all that, but why can't you serve on the board of a hospital? Come home and we will put you on the board of the Cottage Hospital," Cora suggested.

"I want, need, and can do more," Sybil insisted. She would stand her ground. And her parents knew their youngest could be the Rock of Gibraltar when she wanted her way (clearly a trait inherited from Violet), so they tried another tact.

"Well then, how will you pay for the training?" Robert posed.

"I am a woman of independent means and have saved every penny I have made from my nursing. If you've noticed I haven't been buying dresses or other frivolous things, except perhaps a book now and then. I've saved up a fair amount, so I can at least pay for the first year. I am determine to do this, the doctors and nurses believe I have the ability, I am just seeking at minimum your moral support," she pleaded.

Cora and Robert looked at each other exasperated, but they knew their daughter's dogged determination—they'd been bowled over by it before. And with that they raised a white flag. She had once again won them over to her side.

"Well, we will confess that we have been proud of you and your nursing success. But this is rather unorthodox you'd have to admit. I have my reservations mind you, but I suppose we will have to get used to having a doctor in the family," Robert conceded. "Dr. Sybil Crawley, oh I don't know, I guess it sounds alright?" he muttered to himself.

"Sybil, if we let you pursue this, then you have to promise me that you will also find the time to at least entertain a young suitor every now in then," Cora insisted. "I know, we will invite one to Downton at the next family event. I will not have my youngest daughter an old maid, even with a medical degree!"

Confident she had won this battle Sybil was willing to make that one small concession to please her mother, "Yes, of course, if that will make you happy."

"My dear, have there been any eligible young men in London? Rosamund seems to think not, you seem so busy with your nursing." Cora asked.

"Um…well," she didn't dare mention Branson's visit and that she had fallen in love with their former chauffeur. "Ah.., there is a…Dr. McNeil, who helped me get into medical school. We have had tea on occasion," she thought this information would satisfy Cora's desire to marry off her youngest.

"Oh, well a doctor, don't suppose he's the son of Viscount or something, but I am sure he is a decent fellow. Oh and you will have to tell your grandmother about this yourself, she will not take this lying down."

"The world is changing and there is so much to do. I promise you will both be proud of me. I won't let you down. And Granny will just have to get used to it, plus it means she can get my medical opinion on her various spasms and coughs at any time, that will surely win her over."

And thus Sybil had conquered the mountain that was her parents.

* * *

Sybil's third task had been far more pleasurable, she had written a letter to Branson. She wrote him once a month although she was not sure her letters were getting through to him. She had received a letter from him letting her know that he had made it back to France, that he was still in a state of shock about the happenstance way their paths had crossed, but most importantly that he was still overjoyed at their confession of love. Both knew that this declaration had required an extraordinary leap of faith that two people who came from such different worlds could forge a meaningful and fulfilling bond. He assured her he would come back to her.

And it was also a leap of faith, his unbridled belief in her, that prompted Sybil to go ahead and apply to medical school shortly after the two lovers had parted that early spring morning.

_5 September 1916_

_Belgrave Square_

_My dearest friend,_

_How I miss seeing and hearing you, I have so much to tell you. I hope you a received my three previous letters, as I am not sure they get through to you. I daily wonder where you are and I hope that you are in a safe place._

_Life in London has been busy. After you left in April I began to think that I should not wait to go to medical school. My skills could be of use now. So knowing your faith in my capabilities, I applied to the school that trains women physicians. It is affiliated with the University like the military hospital, so I was able to call on a physician to assist me with my application. They were willing to accept my nurses training as a prerequisite, so I start this week with my classes. Mama and papa were none too thrilled. They even thought I would come back to Downton soon and settle down, no doubt with the fourth son of some Viscount or Earl. I so wanted to tell them about us, but thought it wise to wait until your return. They tried everything to dissuade me, but as you know, once I make up my mind I do not budge. So they agreed to let me begin my training. I am so happy at these new prospects and I hope you will be happy too._

_Life in Downton seems to be going on as usual. Mr. Carson and Mrs. Hughes have continued to keep everything in running order. They are so much the backbone of that place I can't imagine home without them. The downstairs staff is much smaller as there are fewer family members and guests about the house. The wonderful news is that Anna and Mr. Bates will be married when he is finally relieved from his military duties. His odious wife has passed away, which has now freed him to marry Anna. I hope they can stay on as part of the household. I suspect old rules will tumble once this war has finally ended. It seems so far off, but I hope it will come soon. We need more happy events around Downton._

_Last week was my last shift on the ward at the hospital. And all of the ward's nurses and orderlies had a little celebration for me. To my surprise Queen McBride shed a tear. She even gave me a good recommendation that helped convince the admissions committee of my worthiness. They all seem proud that one of theirs is going to be doctor. Funny how over time your relationship with people, regardless of the prescriptions of social class or rank, becomes cemented. I will especially miss seeing Louisa everyday, but we have vowed to remain friends and see each other when possible, which will not be too difficult as my school is a merely a few short blocks away from the military hospital._

_I don't know what this new adventure will bring, but I remain optimistic; that sense of hope is a struggle to maintain, knowing that you are somewhere in harm's way. When will the guns stop, when will this war end, how much killing can the world sustain? I hope this will be the war to end all others, as peace will have to be next thing we will strive for as a people. As you once said why can't we make peace?_

_Know you are in my thoughts. Know that I love you._

_Always,_

_Sybil

* * *

_

It had been a year since Sybil sent Branson that letter. And she had received three more letters from him letting her know that he was alright and that he was thinking of her always.

She was surprised how quickly time was passing and hoped that she would see her dearest friend soon, if the guns would ever to stop.


	11. The Front

_The plot thickens with a blast from the past. Comments and reviews are always welcome and keep me motivated. Enjoy!

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AGAINST ALL ODDS

Chapter 11 – The Front

Sybil arrived at the port of Boulogne-sur-Mer early in the morning. It had been a turbulent trip across as the battering November winds churned the channel's waters. Even from the boat the city's magnificent Cathedral dome dominated the skyline of the coast. Their group was picked up from the docks and driven to a large general hospital that had been established to treat British forces. As they drove through town, allied troops from all part of the world roamed about the city's narrow streets.

With the big fall offense in full swing, doctors and nurses were in short supply and there were not enough to handle the large number of casualties streaming through the chain of medical facilities. Dr. McNeil, who still held the rank of captain in the Medical Corps, had been called in to train field doctors and nurses on the latest techniques of post surgical care that would expedite patient care. To assist with his duties he needed a crack crew of nurses to fill out his team. Sybil had been enlisted to assist because of her dual nursing and medical experience. Also joining her on the team was Louisa, thus at least she had familiar company on what would be a demanding four-week stay.

Sybil had never left England, so this was a major trip for her, though perhaps not the grand tour that Cora may have envisioned for her youngest. Rather than telephone her mother she had sent a letter to Downton to inform her of this opportunity and that she would be going. She didn't dare contact her father. But regardless of her mother's response, she was an adult and twenty one, and this would provide important first hand field experience in her medical training. She did not wait for her mother's reply nor did she listen to her Aunt Rosamond's objections about the dangers and risks of a woman of her rank trotting off to the Front.

In their makeshift classroom, Dr. McNeil's team ran three four-hour training sessions a day, one day out of the week they would tour other medical facilities, and if needed they pitched in to help the medical staff. They had Sunday afternoons off and would have three days off at the end of their one-month tour before returning to England.

In a hotel commandeered by the British forces and the Red Cross, Sybil shared a room with Louisa. She slept on small bed whose mattress was lumpy and hard. It was cold in the mornings so either she or Louisa had to rise at dawn and start a fire in the room's small stove. These were no longer the comforts of Downton or Belgrave Square—no cooks, no housemaids, no footmen, no chauffeurs, and no lady's maids. She had to finally confront the realities of how most people lived, which made her understand even more the inequalities that Branson had spoken about. She also knew that this was nowhere near the dire condition of poverty that many experienced, as she still had food and work to sustain her. Moreover, she understood this trip to be a turning point in her quest for independence, but more importantly it was pivotal moment in her transition from a privileged girl from Yorkshire to womanhood.

* * *

At the end of the first week Louisa and Sybil sat down to talk during their second break for the day.

"I can't believe how many doctors, medics, and nurses we've seen in just one week, they're from all over the world," Sybil observed.

"It's been a lot of work to go through these procedures, explaining everything in such detail. Didn't realize I knew so much. But isn't Dr. McNeil a kind man, he is so easy to work with?"

"Yes he is very thoughtful and steady. I greatly admire his patience. And I do think these new methods will help the effort to heal these badly injured young soldiers."

"Indeed," Louisa agreed. "Do you ever hear from _your_ young soldier?"

"No, I haven't heard from _my _soldier, not for a few months," she smiled. "I get a letter every three months or so. I write him regularly and tell him about life in London, school, Downton—though I don't know if he gets them all. I do hope they bring cheer to wherever he is out there."

"I am sure it does," Louisa reassured her friend. "Do you know what will happen after the war? Will you two be gettin' married? He seemed like such a good hearted fellow."

Love is simple, but life makes it all the more complicated, she quickly thought. "I don't know how we would possibly deal with my family and his—who all I am sure will think we are both quite mad. Which might be true—we are madly in love."

"Well what is it they say—'love conquers all.'"

"Knowing my father and especially my grandmother, the battle to gain their approval will put the Norman conquest to shame. But I am sure we'll be together somehow. I just know in my soul our love will survive all this, I can feel it. I don't know why, but being here feels so much closer to him."

"Look at you…your cheeks are bright red!"

And the women laughed as they finished their tea. Then the two friends headed back to their last session of the day. They were both happy they had each other on this journey.

Later that night as she lay awake in bed, she wondered about Louisa's question—_what_ would happen to them? How ever to tell her family or his? Would they be married? Where would they live? Would they have children? These were all valid questions, but only answerable when the guns finally stopped.

Sybil then considered that being over here meant that there was no longer a body of water separating her from the war or from Branson. The thing she most feared, the raging battles that could take him from her were only a few hours away. On the edge of town she was told, if the sky was clear you could see the nighttime artillery barrages as their explosions punctuated the darkness.

As she drifted off to sleep,she remembered: _make another world where there is hope, happiness, kindness, and love_ …and she dreamed again about the little boy and the beach.

* * *

At the end of their second week in Boulogne, Dr. McNeil invited Sybil to have tea at one of the officer's hotels in the center of the city. The hotel's small dining room was filled with officers of all ranks and branches. It was a lovely and much needed break from the hospital.

Sybil greatly appreciated Dr. McNeil's interest in her education and his mentorship. Assisting him on this trip had taught her a lot about the ways that physicians explained their craft. And she was also finding more out about his background, that for example his first name was "Arthur," he had been born and grew up in Edinburgh, and spent time as a medical officer India and South Africa. She enjoyed hearing about his various travels. So far as he knew, Sybil was an ambitious young woman from Yorkshire, which was true, but from a modest middle-class background (which she was not too keen on correcting.)

"Busy day today don't you think Nurse Crawley," asked McNeil.

"Yes, Doctor. I do think what we are teaching them will accelerate the rehabilitation of the wounded," Sybil responded. Then she added, "Although I often wonder if the faster we heal them, the quicker the beds will get filled with the next round," as she put her cup down. "Sorry, don't mean to be so grim."

"No you weren't being grim, I appreciate the reflection upon the larger moral dimensions of this conflict. We need more of that around here and in the upper echelons who orchestrate this blasted mess."

"Yes, I wonder about it often—I mean the purpose of all of this killing. You know we are witnessing the eradication of an entire generation of young men, the future of the nation?"

"War has a way sounding noble at the beginning," McNeil told her.

"But ending in a cacophony of screams," Sybil finished his observation thinking about what Branson had told her about life in the trenches.

"Indeed Nurse Crawley, indeed. You are very wise beyond your years, a fiery glimmer of hope amid the gloom," he said in a manner that gave Sybil the impression that he was no longer referencing just the war.

* * *

The third week saw a new group of doctors, nurses, and medics moving through their classroom, which the team had now made their home. As Sybil was walking into the room she thought she recognized one of the soldiers, a medic taking notes, standing outside. She turned around.

"Thomas? Thomas is that you?" she said to a slender young man in a corporal's uniform.

"Pardon me Doctor?" he said noticing her medical dress, women doctors were a rare sight around here.

"Thomas, its me—Sybil Crawley—from Downton."

"Who?" Then he recognized the youngest daughter of his former employer, "what on earth are you doing out here, Milady?"

"Thomas, please no need for formalities."

"Well I couldn't call you…"

"If it helps just call me Nurse Crawley. Although I am here assisting as a junior physician, hence the doctor's coat."

"Well I'd never've recognized you. I'm very glad to see a face from back home," as a big smile widened across his face.

And so was Sybil, "Likewise I too am happy to connect with someone from home. Would you have time for a cup of tea after this session? We can head over to the canteen."

"Yes, I would like that very much my…Nurse Crawley, sorry this will take some gettin' used to."

She finished her morning session and they walked over to the canteen run by the Red Cross and sat down amid the other medical staff and a few soldiers. Thomas looked a little older and thinner, but no less handsome. She always thought he was rather dashing. And as young teen harbored a small crush on the always-present footman, although she had later heard gossip from Anna that his preferences did not lean toward the female sex.

"I can't tell you what I wouldn't do for one of Mrs. Patmore's pies, the food out here is god awful. Wish she'd run one of these canteens."

"Yes Mrs. Patmore's pies have quite a reputation," Sybil replied, smiling to herself at Branson's wistful longing for the same. "Thomas, it is good see you and that you have survived this never ending war."

"Reckon I was lucky to volunteer early on to the Medical Corps. Thought I'd take charge of where I was going, rather than wait for someone to send me to get blown to bits in the first battle," he said. "At first, it was mostly duty back home, but I've been over here in France for almost two years now. I even spent some of the time at a clearing station closer to the action and have seen a lot of not so pretty things. Though glad I'm not stuck out there in the muck."

"Yes from what patients have told me those trenches are hell on earth."

"And how did the daughter of his Lordship end up out here, if you don't mind my askin'?"

"I too volunteered, but first as a nurse at the Cottage Hospital and ended up training in London at a military hospital. Now I am in medical school to become a doctor. I wanted to help, so it's brought me this far—but far away from Downton I'm afraid. Although I think my decisions may have stirred up a bit of trouble upstairs."

"I am sure his Lord and Ladyship are proud of you. I know sometimes I too stirred up a bit o'trouble right before I left. Mostly aimed at Mr. Bates. But I'm glad to hear that he and Anna will be married. Always thought she had a thing for 'im."

"Right before the war broke out, I do recall that things downstairs were in a bit of disarray."

"I'm sorry for that—Mr. Bate's a good man just tryin' to do his job. O'Brien and I were up to no good that's for sure. And I gave Mr. Carson and Mrs. Hughes such trouble. Even roping poor Daisy into our scheming. I dunno, guess I was lookin' for more power."

"I am sure that all is forgiven."

"Out here you see what power can do to a man, ya kinda feel a bit humbled. Part of my duties are to keep the Corps logs of soldiers goin' in and out of hospitals and stations. Hundreds of thousands of men shot or bombed, gassed or just plain sick goin' back to the Front or goin' back home. I suppose for those who moves us pawns around this war, that is where the real power is at."

Sybil thought about it. "Yes it is humbling, I just hope we can all make it better afterwards." Then she asked him,

"Thomas do you think you check on something for me?" She explained what she needed.

"Nurse Crawley, milady, you were always very good to me and those downstairs, I'll see what I can do. And I'll send 'round a note if I find what your lookin' for."

"Thank you, better return to my next session."

"Good-bye and best to all at Downton."

"Take care and be well, Thomas." And she shook his hand and smiled warmly at the young medic. Thomas walked off, lighting a cigarette as he went back to his duties.

Before she headed back to the hospital, she took a short walk stopping to gaze in awe of the Cathedral that loomed over the medieval part of the city. Lorries loaded with new supplies and fresh soldiers coming in from the harbor rumbled by as she walked along the muddy streets. It was cold and damp. Sybil noticed that the air was pregnant with the smell of snow. The dark grey mid afternoon sky lent the buildings of Boulogne a dreariness that matched the mood of its influx of temporary residents. She had a little more than week here, then back to London and back to school. Tired and a bit weary, she nonetheless felt refreshed from seeing a familiar face and sharing recollections of Downton while so very far away from home.

* * *

The fourth week was almost ended. Sybil had two more days of full sessions and then a few days off before she took a boat back to England.

The Saturday sessions had been particularly long when late in the afternoon an orderly brought round a note addressed to Nurse Crawley. She quickly read it. Thomas had done as promised. Sybil had the information she needed. And tomorrow afternoon she would tread through the snow to her destination.


	12. Dreams

_The next chapter in the saga…I too am dying to find out what happens next. And thanks for the support and comments. Hope you like this one, enjoy!

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AGAINST ALL ODDS

Chapter 12 – Dreams

On Sunday Sybil left directly after the morning session, the only one for the day, had ended. Using the directions she received from one of the head nurses, she found her way through the winding streets of Boulogne to the station hospital that was on the other side of town. It was a much smaller facility, less than half the size of the general hospital and was located in a school. She went to the nurse at the front desk and showed her the information Thomas had given her.

"Ah yes, Nurse Crawley…let me see…that patient is in the north wing…in the isolation ward," as she checked her roster. She looked up with a grim expression and said, "Unfortunately, this week we've gotten several soldiers who've come down with influenza. We've had to place them away from the other patients. I'll have an orderly take you over there."

She was escorted to the other side of the hospital. It was an old building. The floors creaked as she and the orderly paced quickly through the hallways and then through a narrow passage.

She arrived at what looked like the original school house, the room had tall ceilings and peeling yellow wallpaper. It was damp and cold outside and that dank feeling had somehow seeped into this part of the school. A Mrs. Smith, the head nurse in the ward greeted her, who she recognized from one of the training sessions.

"Nurse Crawley, yes I remember you from the training session two weeks ago, very helpful instruction you and Dr. McNeil gave us. What brings you all the way over here, how can I help?" Sybil showed her the note.

Nurse Smith, a tall woman who projected a demeanor of efficiency, was happy to assist the visiting nurse in any way she could. "Yes, that patient is here, if you want to see him you'll have to put on a mask, an additional smock, and wash up thoroughly before and after."

"Yes, yes I will, thank you," responded Sybil, secretly dreading what she might find in the room beyond.

As she put on her mask, Nurse Smith gave her an update, "Staff Sgt. Tom Branson, brought in two days ago with acute influenza. According to this he passed out while driving a transport lorry, no one else was hurt—thank god almighty."

She was led into a small dingy room, perhaps into what had once been a classroom. It now housed eight beds that were separated by makeshift screens. She was led to his bedside. Nurse Smith added "this is beginning to make the rounds in the trenches and in some who've had direct contact with those poor lads such as the sergeant. So far they are typically sick about 4-5 days. Then most recover, but I'm sorry to say not all. We of course keep them in isolation to prevent the further spread of this nasty virus. He should reach crisis tonight, then we'll see. He seems strong though, so odds are in his favor he'll come through."

Before Sybil sat down she asked Nurse Smith, "Thank you, do you mind if I stay? I can help with the other patients?"

"Nurse Crawley, we'd never turn down an extra pair of hands. By the way the patient slips in and out of consciousness, he keeps asking for someone I believe called 'Sybil.'"

She sat down in a chair next to his bed. He was feverish and sweating profusely. "Oh my dearest friend," she uttered pensively looking him over.

For now he was asleep, but she knew that patients with influenza could have attacks of violent chills and severe bouts of vomiting. She picked up a wet cloth and wiped his brow noticing how pale he looked. The pallor of his face clearly reflected the severity of the illness. She missed the spark in his blue eyes. She yearned to see his smile, the one she had so often witnessed when at Downton. She remembered the softness of his lips as he had kissed her good-bye that April morning almost two years ago. She picked up his lifeless hand, held it gently, and vowed that she would see him through this.

* * *

While Branson slept, Sybil helped Nurse Smith with other patients. Then she returned to his bedside in the early evening. He was still perspiring and she tried to keep him covered and cool by wiping his brow.

"My love, this war won't break you or us. Be strong," she said quietly. "Your strength carried me in a complete state of unconsciousness after that awful row at the bye-election. What a naïve, and perhaps a bit spoiled, young girl I was back then.

"But I've grown so far beyond her, thanks to you. Remember my sitting in the backseat barraging you with questions about everything I could think of. I was in love with you even then. I think I just wanted to see your eyes, the caring and passion. I'd look at them and see a beautiful vision of what the world could be…"

As she finished Branson suddenly opened his eyes, which startled Sybil.

"I, I can't hold…Sybil…" he muttered thrashing his head from side to side.

She tried to calm him. She gazed into his eyes wondering if he had that look she'd seen in dying patients? Her presence however didn't seem to register and she soon realized he was delirious, perhaps dreaming, thus he couldn't have known she was there.

"I am here my love, I'm always with you, as you are with me." She assured him as wiped around his neck. She could tell his fever was extremely high, thus the source of the delusions. "I'm here."

She wondered what he was dreaming about. She needed to talk to someone to calm her fears, lying here was her closest friend so she began: "If you can't tell me your dream, then I'll tell you about my mine.

"I regularly have this dream about a young boy named Tom about age four or five playing on a beach. For a long time I thought it was you as a child, the memory of the beach in Ireland you wrote me about in your first letter.

"But the dream has changed over time. The last few times I see the young boy playing in the sand and sea. And then I see myself playing with him. I chase him to the water. He darts, I follow. I pick him up by the hands he kicks and splashes. We are both laughing as I spin him around.

"I somehow realized that it is you, well sort of, it is _your_ child on the beach, the one you and I will have together. The dream, you see, is about our son named Tom—which is why I think it gives me such joy and I keep returning to it. Its comforting aura gives me hope about the future, our future. I hope your dreams wherever you are right now give you such happiness, my dearest friend.

"I know it won't be easy once this war is over. I can't imagine telling my parents about us, but we'll do it together. My father of course will be furious. Mama will think I've let her down in some way. And I am certain I will have to resuscitate Granny after she passes out. But I don't care—I love you and you are my future.

"I want to go to Ireland to meet your family—your mother, younger brothers and sisters. Oh, what will they think of me? I want to see where you are from, learn about what made you see the world as you do.

"We will be together, we will get through this…" she started to quietly sob.

Sybil quickly composed herself–courage is what he would want. She got up, put her arm behind him to sit him up to give him sips of water—which he took—so at least she knew he was responsive. She slowly laid him back down, pulled up the covers, and he fell asleep.

"Nurse Crawley, come have some tea with me before I leave my shift" Nurse Smith kindly told her, sympathetic to the worries of her young colleague.

"Thank you I'd very much like that."

* * *

Sybil helped the night nurse on the ward with the other patients, the nurse was deeply grateful for the assistance.

When she checked in on Branson she noticed he was no longer sweating as heavily and that the fever had most likely broken. But she continued her vigil—gave him water, soothed his brow, held his hand. It was already past midnight. As she watched him breathe, she thought longingly of their last night together almost two years ago, how the warmth of his body stirred her inner soul; the feel of his heartbeat as she laid her head on his chest, she smiled as she remembered…

She felt a hand gently nudge her shoulder, "Nurse, Nurse Crawley, wake up its early morning." Then Sybil realized she had fallen asleep in her chair, still holding his hand.

"Oh I am sorry. I didn't mean to fall asleep."

"From the looks of it young lady, you needed it. Sgt. Branson's fever has dropped he's through the worse. We'll most likely move him to another ward later today or tomorrow," she then added in a very kind voice, "I can see this one means a lot to you, he's lucky to have someone so dedicated, I'll have Nurse Smith send 'round a note to the hospital if there's a change."

"Thank you, thank you for letting me stay the night, I'd better get back to the hospital we have our last training sessions today."

By the time she made it back to the hotel, Louisa was awake and getting ready. Sybil told her where she had been, Louisa gave her friend a much needed hug, and then the two headed to the hospital. The day was particularly difficult, not only because she ached and was exhausted, but because she was still deeply worried about Branson. She never received a note from Nurse Smith, so she assumed he was doing much better.

That night she dreamed again of the beach, the little boy playing, picking him up and spinning him around, and then another figure on the beach grabbed the little boy's hand, it was his father Tom.

* * *

The next day was the start of the team's well-earned and needed three-day break before they went back to London. Louisa and a few of the other nurses had planned to travel to some of the nearby towns along the coast that had not yet been overrun by Allied troops. Sybil declined telling them she wanted to explore Boulogne and stay nearby. Louisa quietly wished her friend the best and her love a speedy recovery.

Sybil headed back to the station hospital first thing. As she arrived to the ward Nurse Smith confirmed that Sgt. Branson indeed had been moved to a regular ward. The good news was that he would only have to spend one more day in the hospital; it seems he had contracted what turned out to be a mild case of influenza complicated by severe dehydration and exhaustion.

"Sgt. Branson is still tired and mostly sleeping. Your staying with him really helped to speed his recovery, as he needed liquids regularly. He hasn't said much since we moved him, only that he had had the most vivid dreams," Nurse Smith finished her update.

She found him in a large ward with about twenty-four other soldiers.

She walked up to his bed, "Tom, Tom" she said as gently shaking his arm to awaken him.

"Yes…yes nurse," he was still a bit groggy, it took him a moment to recognize Sybil in her uniform and cap, "I dreamt someone was holding my hand and kept me from drifting out to sea. So it wasn't a dream you were here? How did you get here? How did you find me?"

She sat down on the bed as he pulled himself to sit up upright.

"Yes my love, I'm here." And she started to cry tears of joy.

"Sybil, how I've missed you," he said holding her hand and wiping her tears away.

"Last night, I thought you were going to die, I thought I'd lose you…never see you again" she said smiling through her tears.

"Shh, I promised I would come back, you aren't going to lose the likes of me, not ever," he reassured her, but still astonished to see her. "My dearest friend…" but he didn't finish, he simply added "you're so beautiful," and he drew her into a passionate kiss.

The other men on the ward yelled "'ey, 'ey 'ands off the nurses!"

"Mate send 'er over 'ere I want that kind o' care!"

They'd forgotten there were twenty some odd other men in the room plus a few nurses on the ward floor. Then everyone began to clap at what was a rather rare sight in a warzone—love.

The two quickly pulled away a bit embarrassed at all the attention. Gazing into each others eyes, they smiled at how fate had allowed their paths to cross once again.


	13. Deeply By Ourselves

_This one got a bit longish, but ties up a few things, more to come. Comments, reviews appreciated. Enjoy!

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AGAINST ALL ODDS

Chapter 13 – Deeply By Ourselves

The day began as one in late November should, the air was chilled and the sun's rays sliced through the steel blue morning sky. The early snow had almost melted as the wind swept through the streets of Boulogne Sur Mer. Wrapped warmly in her burgundy woolen coat and for once sans her medical attire, Sybil found her way back to the station hospital to meet Branson who was finally going to be released today.

Sybil had one more day before she would have to rejoin her team and take the boat back to England. Branson also had 28 hours before he had to return to his unit. The two had decided to spend the day together.

Back in his uniform, Branson was waiting near the main desk as she walked into the old school building. Still a bit pale and several pounds lighter, Sybil could tell that the war had taken a toll on his typically energetic demeanor. She had let him rest most of the day before, only returning to check in with the head nurse of his ward to confirm he would be leaving. On that trip she also thanked Nurse Smith for letting her stay to assist with his care. Despite his recent bout with influenza, which she hoped her intervention had sped his recovery along, she was pleased that they would have this day together before the war would once again part them.

She walked up to him and Branson greeted her with most joyous look imaginable. She liked that his eyes sparkled once again. "Good morning my love, you look exceptionally beautiful," he told her grasping her shoulders.

"Thank you, no uniform for me today. How do you feel?" she asked looking him over.

"Dr. Crawley, you've probably realized by now I've a hearty Irish constitution, somewhat like that of an ox you might say. And given I've already come back from a bullet to my shoulder I reckon I mend rather quickly. I feel like a day off and want to be out for a change."

Sybil giggled, "then you are excited about our day?"

"Absolutely, it will be 'our day.' No war or duty will intrude, at least for now. What should we do?"

"I've made some inquiries, Nurse Smith gave me some suggestions, and found a few places worth visiting."

"With you in charge, I'm sure this day should be full of surprises. There's one thing I want to do if you don't mind. I'd like to go down to the water. After being confined in this hospital, really just trapped in this bloody war for so long, I need to feel openness, a bit of freedom. Can we?"

"Then we shall go there first," as they walked out of the hospital and into the city.

* * *

By noon, they arrived at the _quais _of Boulogne whose slips were packed with troop ships, ferries, and all sizes of fishing boats. They strolled along the central boulevard watching the fishermen haul in the their nets and the fishmongers selling the day's catch to the locals. Afterwards, Sybil and Branson climbed a small hill to an overlook from where they could see the harbor, the beach, and the city. They surveyed the extraordinary scenic vista.

"Its comforting to see that amidst the flow of soldiers and munitions streaming through this town, that the life of the people who live here still goes on," Branson observed staring at the hive of activity in harbor beyond.

"Indeed, the women waiting with the baskets for their men to tow in the morning's catch does say something about the resilience of life, even during wartime," she replied.

"Don't you think life's a bit like the waves out there—washing ashore, taking away, renewing? That's what I love about the sea," then he turned toward her and took both her hands. They gazed into each others eyes as if their souls were lighter than air, drifting like a cloud.

"You are my life, Sybil Crawley I don't know how I ever lived without you. I know we will have much to overcome, but together we can get through it." He took a breath, brought one hand to her cheek, and then asked, "When the guns have stopped, when I return to England, will you marry me?"

She was completely caught off guard, not expecting him to propose to her here and now. But having almost lost him twice she wasn't going to make him wait like Mary had done with Matthew. She put her arms around his shoulders and responded, "Tom Branson, my dearest friend, you have changed my life in ways I never thought possible. I can't imagine you not being with me or in my heart. You've made me so very happy. Yes, I will marry you when the guns have stopped. Yes, of course I will my love!"

Alone together atop the city with only the sky and the sea as their witness, they kissed longingly, calmed by the hypnotic sounds of the rolling waves.

* * *

In the late afternoon as dusk fell, Sybil and Branson rambled through the medieval part of the city. Sybil proposed that they dine at a small _auberge_ that sat at the end of a narrow lane. As they entered the two were kindly greeted by a diminutive innkeeper _"Bonjour, Madame et Monsieur."_

"_Bonsoir Mme. Sogno…" _Sybil spoke to her in French and arranged the meal. The innkeeper's husband M. Sogno took their coats and hats and led the couple into a small dining room to left of the entry. It was a rustic room with dark wood paneling lining the wall and four small tables. The room's large open hearth bathed everything in it in a soft orange glow.

Since it was late in November the _auberge_ was not very busy. With three rooms it was too small to be commandeered by military forces. Thus Sybil and Branson found themselves to be the only ones sitting in the dining room. Their table was near the fire. Its radiant heat thawed their hands and feet from the day's long walk. Mme. Sogno brought them large plates of _coq à la bière _followed by a desert of cheeses and chestnut cake. Branson ate heartily after several days of hospital food. Sybil was happy to see his appetite return.

The two relished the peacefulness of this moment. Neither said much as they ate, knowing tomorrow would again separate them by great distance. Somehow the solitude, as it had been on the April night when they professed their love, became a place of refuge for them.

M. Sogno came and cleared the plates. Eventually Branson spoke, "Sybil this has been an extraordinary day. I don't want it to end. Thank you my love for arranging everything, especially this wonderful meal." He grabbed her hand and brought it to his lips.

"You once said this isn't an ending for us but a beginning." And with that she stood up and led him by the hand out of the room, through a short corridor.

"Sybil where are you taking me?"

They climbed a narrow stair to the second floor. She pulled out a key from her pocket and unlocked one of the doors. The two walked into a room with large bed and chair. Its walls had been painted a beautiful turquoise color, with deep red silk coverings on the furniture.

"You said you didn't want the day to end. This is for us," Sybil turned to face him now holding both his hands.

"Well, this is a major surprise! I was planning to walk you back to your hotel shortly, but you want us to stay the night here I reckon?"

"Yes, here, tonight. I can't bear to leave you, not yet. I rented the room from Mme. Sogno. I arranged it all yesterday, that is where I disappeared to. I wanted a perfect end to our day," she confessed. "We are so far away from everything and everyone. I told them we were _M. et Mme. Branson_ - which we will be soon," she smiled, "Are you pleased? Tell me you aren't angry?" she tested his response.

"No, how could I be angry? And I couldn't think of anything I want more than to spend the night with you," as his hands drew her face to his and his lips gently graced hers.

They embraced and absorbed this special moment. Branson then led her to sit on the edge of the bed. He looked at her sweetly stroking her cheek with one hand.

"Sybil I too want this night to be perfect. When we were last together in London, I pulled away not wanting to go any further because if that would've been your first time, our first time, then I couldn't imagine not being there for you the next day. That I'm afraid to say hasn't changed, tomorrow I'll leave you."

"I know, I so wish we could change that, there is so much that effects us I wish we could change, except the fact that I love you." And she leaned in to kiss him. She pulled him back onto the bed and onto her. The weight of his body on her ignited the stirrings of the passion she'd felt before that night in April. She ran her hand through his hair as she began to explore and understand her own feelings of desire.

Branson however remained determined and rolled off of her onto his side, "Oh God, I do so want you with all of my soul," he said staring into her eyes as the flickering light danced in them. "But I don't think we should. I don't think we can."

"Tom, I know I shouldn't want this so desperately. But three days ago I almost lost you again," she lamented. "I've never felt this kind of longing. Women of my station are supposed to wait till we are married. This is what we are taught – to be chaste. Desire, we're incessantly reminded, is a man's prerogative. But my desire for you is something I cannot nor want to contain. Our hearts are already one and have been for a long time, why can't we be one in all the ways that matter? It just seems natural, is that bad?" she kissed him again.

"You should never ever be ashamed of your desires," he said stroking her side. "Love, your love for me, is one of the most profound things one can feel. And we'll be together I promise, once this war is over," he reassured her.

"Oh how I shall miss you tomorrow when there is a channel and a war once again between us, our ranks and families will again build a wall to separate us," as her hand caressed the back of his neck. "Here in this room so far away from it all, for tonight can we just be…us?"

"Yes, of course we can," he said, " and tonight we will be together."

"But how, you just said we couldn't?" she asked.

"There are other ways to share our passion…I will show you," he whispered in her ear.

He drew her up off the bed and over toward the warmth of the fire. He pulled the pins from her hair and let it down. In his eyes her beauty had matured, become more poised. Enthralled, he slowly began to undo the buttons of her dress. She let her sheath drop to the floor and stepped out of it, removing her shoes and stockings. Holding the back of her undergarments he brushed kisses across her bare shoulders, slowly working up and down her neck. She held her head back and closed her eyes as she ached with pleasure.

She followed his actions and reached for the buttons of his shirt, undoing them and sliding it off his body. She glanced at the slight small arc of the scar on his left shoulder, noticing how well it had healed. She then kissed it gently as her hands encircled his back. He groaned softly.

Once undressed, they were both surprised at the comfort they found in discovering each other. Their lips met with an unbridled desire that neither had felt before.

Branson led Sybil to the bed, laid her down and then continued exploring her exquisitely supple body till she let out a cry of joy—the culmination of the feelings that he had long ago engendered in her. He then led her through more arts of love. Caressing his toned body she was astonished at his response to her touch. That she could give him such pleasure made the evening everything she could have imagined.

They lay awake with Branson's arm around her and Sybil nestled against his warm body. "How do you feel my love?" he asked as he kissed her on the forehead.

"I would say—ecstatic," she smiled looking up at him utterly fulfilled.

"Don't forget, once we are married, it will be even better," he reminded her.

"That I can't imagine, my darling, but I look forward to that day. I am happy we have had this time all to ourselves."

"What was it that poem said you read to me: 'So much alone, so deeply by ourselves…'"

"…So far beyond the casual solitudes," she whispered into the night as her lips enveloped his.

The two lovers fell asleep in each other's arms lulled by the crackling sounds of the fireplace.

* * *

Dawn arrived as the sky began to change colors and the sounds of the town drifted through the window.

"Good morning, my darling," she stretched under the warm covers. "I can't wait till we are husband and wife and I get to wake up next to you every morning." Sybil said to Branson as he held her and she stroked his chest.

"Good morning, my love," he said looking around the room, "funny how calming the color of this room is, its like we're floating on the sea."

"Yes, it's a tranquil shade of deep blue and green. It reminds me of my dream about our son at the beach."

"A beautiful dream and our future," he kissed her.

They got out of bed, dressed, and left the room where they had crossed a new threshold of intimacy, one that had fortified their bonds of love.

When they made it downstairs Mme. Sogno had prepared a small breakfast for them in the dining room. Sybil and Branson thanked her and her husband for their hospitality and collected their hats and coats. As they walked arm in arm through town, neither spoke. They found their way to the small square in front of the cathedral, this would be where they would part, instead of at her hotel or boat.

"Thank you for finding me, for saving me. I owe my life to you. But most of all thank you making our world one of love and hope. Remember I will be with you always, and we will be together once the guns stop," he told her fighting back tears. "Goodnight my dearest friend."

"Know that I love you always. Goodnight my love," she whispered to him.

The two kissed with a feverish passion. He looked at her one last time, wiped a tear from her eye. Then he slowly backed away, waved, and turned down a street.

* * *

At 11 o'clock Sybil met Louisa, Dr. McNeil, and the rest of her group at the hotel. Louisa was happy to see her friend and she told Sybil about the beautiful seaside towns that reminded her of the Welsh coast. On the way down to the port, Dr. McNeil chatted about the other hospitals he had visited to observe their new techniques in practice. Sybil listened to the conversations around her, but her mind and heart were elsewhere overwhelmed by all of the new sensations she now felt.

While the boat chugged away from the port Sybil stood outside on the windswept deck under the cold grey afternoon sky. She watched as the dome of the cathedral and the cliffs drew smaller in the distance as the ship moved out into the harbor and then the channel. She contemplated all that had occurred in her month there—the endless training sessions, living with Louisa in that small room, her weekly teas with Dr. McNeil, her surprise encounter with Thomas. She reflected upon everything that had happened with Branson. What an extraordinary chain of events—finding him, his dire illness, the surprise proposal, and then the revelation of last night. She hated that once again time and space, war and duty was drawing them apart.

Sybil thought about all the things she discovered about herself, what she was capable of and what she had learned. She thought about the promise of her bright future with Branson. It was true she came to Boulogne still very much a girl from Yorkshire, but last night she had become very much a woman, her own person who took charge of what and who she wanted.


	14. The Tempest

_It's an uphill climb from here on for Sybil and Branson. Reviews and comments are welcome and appreciated. Enjoy!

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AGAINST ALL ODDS

Chapter 14 – The Tempest

"Sybil, Sybil, wake up, my dear, …" a woman's voice said.

"Don't let…no…" Sybil cried out in her sleep.

"Wake up," the voice said again, she felt a hand jostle her arm.

And slowly she began to rouse out of her dream to the sound of her Aunt Rosamund's voice.

"My dear, you were having a bad dream of some sort."

"Where…, when did I get home, what time in the morning is it?" she wiped her eyes, then took a deep breath.

"You've been asleep all day and it's early evening. You don't look well. I've sent Thornton for Dr. Crawford."

"I dreamt the water was calm, I was floating peacefully, then it turned black and stormy, he let go and I drifted away," she said to herself and her aunt, who was confused by her niece's delirium. "Was Boulogne a dream? Arthur, Thomas, Tom…?" she mumbled further. "Ewww," she moaned becoming aware of her throbbing head and overall achiness when she tried to sit up.

"You came back from your month away last night and went straight to bed. You've been asleep since then. Who is it are you asking for?"

"Arthur, I mean Dr. McNeil, Thomas was our footman, Tom…" she stopped there.

"Why on earth would you be dreaming about one of the staff at Downton? I don't like this you are terribly confused, you look feverish, I hope Dr. Crawford comes soon."

"I will be fine, I think the diagnosis will be that I am just tired. It was the last few days. I haven't slept. I was taking care of soldiers with influenza," she said—which was all true—she had barely slept since having been reunited with Branson earlier in the week.

"Taking care of who with what, no wonder you are sick. That settles it Sybil. You are staying in bed tomorrow and will do for a change _what we tell you_," Rosamund stated firmly.

"I can't stay in bed. I have to catch up with my classes," she moved to get out of bed, but almost fainted and had to sit back down. "Dr. McNeil promised to tutor me, to help me with what I missed."

"Well, this Dr. McNeil and all that work will just have to wait."

Dr. Crawford came shortly after wards. His diagnosis was indeed a mild case of exhaustion and his prescription was a days rest. He took Rosamund aside and said, "she is lucky its not influenza. Hear it's going round the trenches wiping out our boys like flies—rather nasty business. Not to worry though she'll be fine. She's made of stern stuff, especially if she's training to become one of us—not a typical occupation for a young woman, don't you know?"

Later Mrs. Welkins sent up some broth, which Sybil finished and went back to sleep. As she drifted in and out of sleep, her mind turned over the past week's events—Branson's illness, their night in the _auberge_, the proposal, the awakening of her desire—it all seemed unreal, as if she had lived one of her daydreams.

* * *

Sybil started back to classes and met with Dr. McNeil in his office three times a week after he had finished his rounds. She was a natural at understanding human physiology the doctor told her. He was duly impressed by her analytical abilities and saw great promise in the young medical student.

"Thank you for taking time to tutor me on this material. After two weeks I am almost caught up with the other students and I'm glad I've progressed this far before Christmas leave," she told the doctor as she closed her book and glanced around his cluttered office filled with volumes of books, medical apparatuses, and papers piled on all surfaces.

"Sybil you are a quick study. You have a knack for medicine and I am pleased you were willing to pursue this route."

"It wasn't easy, my parents were surprised by the decision. They resisted at first, but I'm known to be a pretty stubborn. But now I am sure they are proud of my choice. I like the challenge of medicine, but more than anything the possibilities of what medicine can do to help people."

"Sad to say that many of my male colleagues still feel there is no place for the fairer sex in the wards except in a nurse's uniform. But a few courageous women like yourself are blazing new trails, opening new avenues for women in field."

"Well I am one for women's rights. We will get the vote soon."

"Indeed you will. And perhaps there is something else that would make your parents proud of you and allow you to continue with your quest to open up the medical fields to more women. I am expanding with my research on wound treatment, especially the use of antiseptics and will be in need of an assistant. You were an invaluable member of our team on our trip to Boulogne and I think we work well together. I would like to put your name forward if you would be interested? The work would commence next summer and it would count as part of your training. We could use more women on the research side."

Sybil was taken by surprise by the doctor's generous offer and it was great complement to be asked to join a research team, "I have the utmost respect for you and your work Dr. McNeil. Thank you, for asking me I am indeed honored. Might I think it over and give you a response soon?"

"Yes of course, please take all the time you need. The only part of the plan that I do not know yet, is where we would be based—could be here in London, perhaps Edinburgh, Oxford was interested—it all depends on where I can get a teaching position."

"Dr. McNeil this would be a big step for me in my medical career. Thank you so very much for everything. Merry Christmas," she said reaching out to shake his hand.

"Please no need for formalities, we are friends are we not, you may call me Arthur. Enjoy the holidays with your family and get home safely there is a storm brewing," he said holding her hand warmly with both of his.

Sybil left the doctor's office and walked out into the blustery early evening. The wind howled fiercely and rain pounded the streets of London. The winter's storm increased in intensity as she made her way home. Despite the severity of the weather, she was deep in thought as she had so much to consider. Her mind raced through all of the implications of Dr. McNeil's extraordinary offer. After all this decision would now not only affect her, but also Branson. Their interlude in Boulogne had been so precious that neither would allow the disruptions of war, family, duty, or livelihood to intrude into their perfectly crafted sanctuary. But now the realities of everyday life, what it would mean to plan a future together began to weigh heavily on her mind. There would be so many obstacles on all sides to their marriage she didn't know where to turn in the labyrinth of their current lives. She would have to write him tonight. By the time she made it to Belgrave Square the rain came down in an almost horizontal direction assaulting her umbrella at every step.

* * *

"Good evening, milady," Mr. Thornton greeted her as she shook off the water in the vestibule, "the storm is getting quite bad, your aunt was a bit worried. She thought she should have sent Pritchard for you."

"I made it home in one piece, but will need to dry off before dinner."

"Yes milady, Lady Grantham telephoned and asked that you call her as soon as you returned."

"Thank you, Thornton. I will do so before dinner."

Sybil went upstairs to her room to change and when she returned to the main hall she telephoned her mother "Mr. Carson. Good evening it is Lady Sybil. I am calling to speak to Mama…Yes, thank you."

"Mama you are well? How is everyone at Downton? Papa?" Sybil asked Cora, the line was faint but she could her mother's comforting voice.

"Yes, we are all fine. And your father will be here for Christmas. I received your letter saying you arrived safely from Boulogne. I wanted to hear your voice before you and Rosamond came up for Christmas."

"Its good to be home and I am back in classes." Neither Sybil nor her aunt had told Cora about her illness upon return. Rosamond, like her niece, wanted to avoid the wrath of her brother and the scathing disapproval of her sister-in-law.

"I wanted to share the good news. Your father will be discharged from duty. At the end of January. He will be home in time for Edith's wedding. Isn't that wonderful news?"

"You said that Papa is coming home? Yes that is good news. Thank you for letting me know."

"And we did have some bad news from downstairs. About one of the boys at the Front" Cora added.

Sybil's heart sank instantly. "What has happened?" she asked terrified of what her mother would say next.

"I am sorry to say that Thomas has died. It was apparently a sickness—influenza I believe."

"Did you say Thomas? That can't be. I just saw him a month ago in Boulogne. He was fine," she told her mother.

"Apparently it happened very quickly. I will give the details when you come home. Well, I don't want to keep you. We will see you and your aunt soon. Good-bye."

"Yes, goodnight Mama."

Sybil then joined her aunt in the dining room.

* * *

After their meal Sybil politely excused herself from tea in the drawing room and went instead to the library, telling her aunt she had a letter she wished to write. She sat near the fire sipping a glass of claret that Thornton had brought in for her. As the sounds of the fierce rain battered the windows, she thought about Thomas and their chance meeting that changed the course of her life. He was full of promise and now gone, killed by the same illness that almost took Branson. She pondered how much of what happened in one's life was a question of fate and how much was in one's control.

"Claret rather than tea Sybil, are you alright? You hardly said a word over dinner," her aunt spoke softly as she entered the room and sat down next to her niece.

"I am sorry I didn't mean to be sullen in my mood this evening. Along with the news from Downton that Papa was being discharged, I also heard that Thomas, our former footman, had died of influenza contracted in this awful war. I saw him by chance in Boulogne and he did something very kind for me. The news of his death has thrown me a bit. Earlier, I also received a remarkable offer from Dr. McNeil. So much to think about." She then asked her aunt, "Life is filled with chance and choice, however do you know what to do?"

"You are a dear girl, you care so much about everyone and everything. I for one admire the choices you've made," Rosamund said trying to lift her niece's spirits.

Rosamund, who was typically reserved, opened up to her niece. "In my day when I was a young woman we had so few options. You were to be married, to have children, and to run a household. And those choices were most often made for you, not by you. Well, I rebelled and tried make my own way, much to the dismay of Mother if you could imagine. But I quickly found out that it wouldn't be easy to break the old ways."

"What do you mean?" Sybil asked her aunt to whom she had grown close in the three years she had lived at Belgrave Square. She knew her aunt could have been far stricter about her comings and going and she was grateful for the liberties she'd been accorded. Sybil was also sympathetic to the fact that since her aunt was unmarried, she was still governed in some respects by her older brother's decisions.

"Well, when I was about your age, twenty-two to be exact, I fell in love with a young officer. He was very handsome, but also very caring. He had a simple upbringing, the son of a vicar in a nearby village. Papa and Mama of course wanted me to wed the son of wealthy American who came over to find a proper English wife. But I refused the American's offer of marriage. I wanted to run off and marry the love of my life. Sadly he was killed in a fierce battle in the Boer War. He was only twenty-three when he died and I never saw him again. By then the American had found someone else. So here I am—an old maid who lives off the kindness of her brother. But I think you are doing things differently and I admire that spirit," her aunt gave her niece a hug.

"Aunt Rosamund, sometimes I feel as if nothing is in my control, that this war will never end, that things in life are about the overtake and pull me under," Sybil confessed.

"Do not worry my dear, you are strong and most importantly determined—you have my mother's tenacity in you, you'll survive and no doubt change those old ways." Her aunt stood up and left the room. Sybil with her glass in hand walked over to the desk and sat down to write her letter:

_21 December 1917_

_Belgrave Square, London_

_My dearest friend,_

_Boulogne seems so far from here. Our day there was a beautiful dream, however brief it was. I think of it often and it gets me through the long days. I hope you made it back safely to your unit and back to your duty. I am glad that you will be managing the lorries and motorcars, rather than driving them. At least I can find some comfort that you are not directly in the trenches and some distance away from the worse fighting._

_Life upon return went back to its usual routine. I am back in classes and trying to catch up with what I missed. Dr. McNeil has been tutoring me and today he made me an offer to join his research team. He was impressed with my performance in our training sessions. I am drawn to the prospect of doing laboratory work. But I also think that deep down I want to be a country doctor, to help people in their daily lives. I wanted you to let you know about his offer and find out what you think I should do. I do not yet know if I will stay in London. I could end up as far away as Edinburgh. I hope we can be married as soon as you return from the war. So this decision is also one you should share. Please write me and let me know your thoughts._

_Today I had news from Downton, both good and bad. Papa will be discharged next month, which gives me hope that this war may finally be ending and you will be coming home soon. The sad news is that Thomas has died from influenza. It must have taken him quickly as I hear from various doctors that it's now becoming virulent and deadly. I think you were fortunate to have contracted an early milder strain. It is sad to see such youth lost to the fallout of war that I'm sure will be extensive once the actual fighting has ended. I am still grateful that Thomas found you and told me where you were. If by chance he and I had not crossed paths, I would have never been able to take care of you during your illness. We would have never had our wonderful day in Boulogne. I am beginning to realize how much of life is a consequence of chance as much as it is an outcome of choice. I suppose I still have a lot to learn._

_When you proposed to me you told me that we would get through this together. And I believe that we will. But I am also beginning to realize the challenges we will face and they are many. I miss having you to talk to about it all._

_May Christmas provide a moment of peace. Know that I love you._

_Always,_

_Sybil

* * *

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That night as Sybil drifted off to sleep the storm outside continued to rage and the recurring tempest in her dream grew fiercer.


	15. Choices

_And so the plot thickens. More to come. Thanks for the great reviews. Enjoy!

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AGAINST ALL ODDS

Chapter 15 – Choices

It was a somber winter's night as Sybil made her way home from her afternoon classes. As she traversed through London the damp frigid air seemed to slow the activity on the street to a glacial pace. The war with Germany now stretched into its fourth year and she noticed in the shop windows that the heroic banners and posters all seemed to be faded and torn. The city and country's mood was one of dispiritedness as this interminable conflict dragged on. By now almost everyone had lost someone close to him or her to the fighting. Cora had telephoned the day before to inform her that Cousin Matthew had been overtaken by a mustard gas bombardment near Cambrai and had lost his eyesight, whether or not it was permanent blindness was not yet known. He was currently in an officer's hospital and would mostly likely be sent home to Crawley House in a few weeks to recuperate. And she had yet to hear back from Branson about her offer from Dr. McNeil. She prayed that given a likely major spring offensive on the Western Front that he was somewhere safe.

She walked in the house and Thornton, always vigilant, welcomed her home.

"Good evening, Thornton."

"Good evening, milady. I trust you had a good day at school," he asked relieving Sybil of her coat and hat.

"Yes I did—never knew the human body had so many nerves and arteries," she told him.

"The body is indeed a complex machine that we must take good care of." He returned with a letter from the nearby console, "Milady, a message arrived for you this afternoon."

"Thank you. How odd I wasn't expecting anything, I wonder who could have sent it?" she said as she picked up her message. It was a telegram, so it must be urgent. She walked into the library, sat on the sofa, and unfolded the beige paper:

27 JANUARY 1918  
ARRIVING TOMORROW FOR THE DAY. MEET ME AT SOUTHEAST CORNER OF REGENTS PARK AT THE SMALL GARDEN. WILL BE THERE FROM 11AM UNTIL MY EVENING TRAIN. SGT. TOM BRANSON

Coming to London, but why? Where is he going after tomorrow, back to France or is he staying? He can't be hurt if he wants to meet at the park. Questions raced through her mind as she tried to decipher the story behind this enigmatic message.

Thornton came in to announce, "Dinner will be served in a half hour milady. Is everything fine?" Having grown fond Sybil and quite content at having the young woman and her unconventional ways about the house, he was keenly aware of her distress, "I trust it is good news?"

"To be honest I don't know what it means. But please would you do me a favor and not tell my aunt about this telegram."

"As you wish milady" Thornton dutifully responded and she ran upstairs to change for dinner.

* * *

The next morning Sybil left the house earlier than usual telling her aunt that she had errands before her afternoon class. In truth she was going to miss her class today in order to meet Branson at the time and place he had given her in his telegram. She walked briskly through Mayfair and the Westend toward Regent's Park. Once she arrived she looked for his uniform and there he stood on a busy corner with pedestrians passing swiftly by. She crossed the street weaving her way through the traffic and shouted his name to catch his attention, "Tom, Tom!" He waved back "Sybil!" and walked toward her. They embraced.

"I can't believe you are here, now! I got your telegram yesterday, are you well?" she smiled while looking him over to make sure he was in one piece. Still thinner than his Downton days, he'd at least put on a few pounds since November.

"Yes, I'm fine, much better since I last saw you. Sorry it was short notice. Didn't have time to write a proper letter, thought this was the best way to see you. And here you are my darling," he said drinking in her beauty.

"And where else would I be?" she told him blushing. And the two again embraced happy to be both back in England after almost two years.

"Let's go for a walk and I'll tell you the whole story." She took his arm and they ventured into the park.

"I'm on my way back home to see my mother who's very sick," he informed her as they rounded a path.

"Oh no, I am sorry that she has taken ill. What is the matter?" she asked.

"I don't know her condition just yet. My sister's looking after the little ones. So they'll be glad their older brother's back home again. It's been a hard winter from the sound of my mother's letters."

"I am so sorry to hear this. Please let me help—if I can?" she comforted him.

"I will. But the good news is after being wounded by a bullet and nearly killed by the flu, HRH's army has finally let this Staff Sergeant go," he gladly told her.

"You mean you've been discharged? I can hardly believe it."

"Yes, our side has made major strides in the last few months and with the Yanks in the war the tide is turning in our favor. Plus fresh battalions are coming in, so they're sending this old war horse out to pasture."

Sybil was taken aback at his news, but ecstatic that he was finally out of this deplorable war. She turned toward him, "Welcome home my dearest friend." She missed the taste of his lips and she kissed him, not caring they were in a public park in the middle of the day. They reveled in the moment.

"I wanted to see you on my way back to Ireland. I catch the early evening train to Liverpool, then the overnight ferry to Belfast."

"This is the best news possible. We have so much to talk about, I don't know where to begin?"

"Well how about starting with the letter you sent me. My leaving France happened so quickly it didn't make much sense to write back, I'd most likely see you before my letter arrived," he said leading her to sit on a bench near the lake.

"My decisions are now yours and Dr. McNeil's offer affects us both—does it not?"

He paused not answering her question directly, "what makes this offer important to you?"

"Well to start, I suppose its important to develop new methods for wound treatment—it could help a lot of patients. Being a nurse and now a medical student, I've seen first hand the evolution of new techniques and how they make a difference in the rate and success of recovery."

"And are there other reasons why you want to do this?" he prodded her.

"Maybe I'm drawn to it because there're so few women on research side of medicine. I guess its part of my own personal campaign for women's rights. There is so much we still have to do. I can save a life, but I still can't vote after all."

"So you're saying its also political then? Tell me, what's not so good about this?"

"Part of me just wants to be a general practitioner, a country doctor who delivers fat babies and takes care of the farmer whose hand got caught in the thresher. I suppose I prefer working with people not test tubes."

"Sybil then why not do both?" he asked her.

"What do you mean?"

"I reckon you could take on the lab work for a couple of years, then go into a medical practice, do you have to make a choice now?"

"I never thought about it in those terms, I guess I don't have to choose one over the other." She picked his hand with both of hers, "Tom, you have a way of seeing the promise in every difficult situation. I've so missed talking to you." Then she added, "The only problem is Dr. McNeil has yet to find out where we would be based."

"This is important to your becoming a doctor, and for women doctors—you must move forward wherever you need to go," he affirmed.

"Thank you." They stood up and began walking.

The sun broke through the midday clouds to give a hint of the coming spring. The two roamed the rest of the park. Sybil told him about Matthew's recent injury. They discussed the tragic death of Thomas. Branson told her what he knew about his mother's illness. Yet with all the challenges in their lives, both were blissful that they had this precious time to together, if only, as it had been before, for a few hours.

* * *

By 4 o'clock Sybil and Branson were beginning to get hungry and decided to walk over to The Feathers for sustenance and warmth. They found the same quiet table in the back was empty. They sat down and peeled off their coats, hats and gloves. They ordered food and began to eat.

"I will let Dr. McNeil know tomorrow about my decision, hopefully he will know soon where we'll be based. I hope it will be in London. Although we have to decide when and where we will be married. So many decisions to make now that you are home," Sybil happily said to him.

"We have much to figure out," he replied. "Sybil, truth is I don't know what I'll do for work," he looked at her earnestly. "I was a chauffeur, but now I'm like a lot of lads—just out of work. Truth is I never…"

"Yes?"

"Truth is I never should have asked you to marry me not knowing what I'd do to support you."

"What do you mean, do you not want us to be married?"

"I love you more than I can ever say, but it wasn't fair to you to ask you to commit your life to someone who doesn't know where his next meal will come from. You're the daughter of an Earl and haven't lived my life."

"You aren't withdrawing your proposal are you?" Sybil asked, confused by his changed attitude about their marriage.

"I don't know if I had a right to ask you to commit to me. It all seemed so perfect in Boulogne, almost too perfect as if we were floating above it all—the war, class, everything. I almost died, perhaps I was still a bit delirious that day," he reasoned. "You might say I've dropped back down to earth and took a hard look at where we both are right now."

"Indeed our day in Boulogne was special, it was a beautiful dream. But no matter where we are in the world, my love for you is real, along with the obstacles I know that stand in our way. You told me that day when you proposed that together we can get through anything, do you still believe that?"

"Yes, of course I do. I don't mean to worry you my love. Everything has changed so quickly—I'm just trying to catch up."

"For work, Papa did say when I saw him at Christmas that he would offer all of the staff their jobs back at Downton—you, Mr. Bates, William. You could go work there—even if for a few months. I'm sure Papa would hire you back."

"Sybil, how could I go back to my old job working for his Lordship and Ladyship while secretly engaged to their daughter?"

"We'll tell them about our engagement right away. We have so much to work out—also with your family"

While determined, she was still a bit naïve about many things. "I don't think that's a good idea just yet," he cautioned her realizing how unrealistic her proposition was.

"But what else would you do, find work in Ireland?" she wanted to know.

"There was this officer in charge of my unit when I was transferred to the ASC and ran the battalion's motorpool. We got on well. He was impressed with my knowledge of how to fix motorcars and lorries. When he gets out the army, he's planning to start a car company somewhere in England. He's offered me an apprenticeship to assist in developing new engines and automobiles. I'd be working in a small factory, so maybe I could make sure the workers are treated decently."

"That sounds promising, it's a great opportunity and you could do good for the workers" she assured him.

"But I'll need your father's reference and I'm not sure I'd want to risk it."

"I'm sure Papa will support you, in the meantime will you think about his offer?" Sybil asked.

"Of course I'll consider it," he replied. And in reality he would have to find work right away not just to support Sybil in the long term, but also to take care of his family in Ireland who needed his help now.

They finished their meal and talked about the little details of the past few months. Before they knew it was almost 7 o'clock.

"I'd best be getting over to the station. I left my bag, so I'll have to retrieve it," he said.

"Do you mind if I see you off?" she asked.

"No, the more time I can have with you the better," he smiled holding her hand up and kissing it.

* * *

The great hall of Euston Station was busy with passengers moving to and fro. Sybil and Branson waited for the final boarding of his train to be announced.

"I am glad you sent me the telegram to let me know that you would be passing through. Best of all, I'm glad that you are finally home."

"Almost home, my love, or really I don't quite know where home is at the moment. You and I always seem to be passing each other, heading in different directions."

"But even through all of this—this war, life at Downton, we found each other. And know that we will make a home together—I promise."

"Despite being headstrong, you're forever the optimist, its one of the things about you I love the most. You're determined when you want something, so I'd like to see someone stop you, or us. We've so many decisions to make, but we'll get through them—one at a time. I'll let you know about my mother's condition."

The train to Liverpool was called for final boarding. Sybil walked Branson to his car.

"Good night, my dearest friend," Branson told her before he kissed her passionately one last time.

"Good night, my love" Sybil said holding his hand as he climbed aboard and she let go as the train began to pull away. It slowly progressed out of the long low shed till it disappeared in the distance. She wondered how much the war had changed the self-assured man she met four almost years ago.

Despite her unshakable optimism, Branson was right. Their lives had always been that of crossing paths—at Downton, in London, in Boulogne. Two years ago she had literally run into him on the street. The two lovers seemed to be finding places of refuge, albeit temporary ones, in order to be together—the motorcar, the library, the hotel, and a day in the park. In some ways she envied couples that lived in the same place, whose lives unfolded in the same social spheres. Look at Mary and Matthew, and yet they too had had many challenges—now his possible blindness. Or Anna and Mr. Bates who found love despite his odious, but now dead wife. For better or worse, the war had changed the tenor of so many relationships.

But Sybil also knew that she would never find anyone else who could have given her so much strength to be her own person and taught her some much about the world than the man she had agreed to marry. And she was willing to take a chance and make the tough choices to be together.


	16. Labyrinths

_This story arc is a little more than half way. Appreciate the comments—it keeps the creativity flowing. And hats off to my fellow writers on this board – y'all are some great storytellers. Enjoy!

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AGAINST ALL ODDS

Chapter 16 – Labyrinths

Sybil liked the train ride home to Downton best in the spring. Over the course of her trek between Kings Cross and Ripon she watched out of her compartment window as the blackened stone city give way to the beauty of greening forests and rolling hills. There was something about witnessing the deadened landscape awake to the regenerating warmth of the sun that she found comforting. In some ways she hoped this scene was allegorical to the reawakening of life after war. After all Edith was finally marrying Sir Anthony this week. Her father was finally home at Downton. Matthew was home recuperating, although he had not yet fully regained his sight. And Sybil hoped, no she was sure that she and Branson would finally be together. Perhaps the coming good fortune would be bounteous for everyone at Downton after four long years of hardship and sacrifice. But as she was also learning about life that no matter how much she may have wanted to change things, it did not mean her efforts would always yield the results she intended.

Since their January reunion she had received two short letters from Branson. The first let her know that he had arrived safely back in Ireland and the second updated her as to his mother's condition—she had apparently contracted typhoid fever, but had survived. As she had predicted Lord Grantham did make him an offer to come back to his old job. He was weighing the decision in light of the pressing need to provide for his brothers and sisters. Two weeks ago, she had written him back encouraging him to take it and that they would figure out a way to eventually tell her parents about their engagement.

She had taken the early morning train and it was early afternoon by the time she arrived to Ripon. She had a porter assist with her bag and she waited for the driver from Downton in front of the station. The family car arrived; it stopped directly in front of her and out stepped the chauffeur wearing a black uniform, it was Branson.

"Milady," he dutifully told her. "Welcome home," avoiding eye contact as he went to fetch her bag

Sybil was completely taken aback, she had not been sure if he had indeed accepted the job. "I…I had…I didn't…," she stuttered miserably, trying to sift through her range of emotions from surprise to joy to reason in all of five seconds. As the latter took hold, she realized that they would have to play, for the moment, their respective public roles of mistress and servant—it was an awkward, if not familiar dance.

"Thank you, um Branson," she told him as he returned to open the door. He held her hand as she stepped into the back of the car, she closed her eyes happy to connect with him physically, if only fleetingly. As she sat down each caught the other in a knowing glance and smile, "you are welcome milady."

He climbed in the front seat, started the engine, and commenced their trip back to Downton.

"Did you get my letter?" he asked her keeping his eyes on the road.

"No it had not arrived by the time I left London."

"I wrote you that I had accepted your father's offer. And to warn you before your trip to Lady Edith's wedding."

"Thank you for letting me know," she told him. She want to reach out to touch his shoulder, but couldn't. Her impatience was beginning to flare. "You know this all seems so absurd. I hate having to ride in the back with you in the front," Sybil grumbled, frustrated by the situation in which they now found themselves.

"Unfortunately it's the reality of the moment," he reminded her.

Both felt out of sorts with this arrangement and said next to nothing most of the trip. Sybil finally broke the silence.

"Tom, I don't quite feel well. Can we pull over please," she asked. "I think it must have been something I ate."

"Most certainly," he said as he stopped just outside of town near a wooded area.

He climbed out of the front and walked over to her door. He opened it and helped her out.

"Here let me help you get some air. Could be the ride, his Lordship brought this car a year ago and it needs a few adjustments."

"Yes I feel much better," she breathed in the fresh air adding, "now that the ghastly divide is between us no longer." She smiled mischievously.

"Sybil…this isn't a game," he tried to remind her, but she grabbed his hand.

"Come, let's go for a walk," she insisted and pulled him into the woods.

"I suppose five minutes in the back seat and you've reverted to that disobedient girl I remember?"

"No, I just need to talk to you unencumbered by the formalities of rank. I need to find out how you are. I need to feel your arms around me," she stood facing him.

He opened his arms. As she came to him he slid them around her waist.

"I am sorry. This is not how I imagined us together."

"Nor I," she agreed. Then he drew her into a hungry kiss, they stayed in each others arms trying to close the gap from their two months apart. She led him to a clearing near the river and they sat down on a large rock. The river's rushing waters made full by the spring thaw provided a calming background for the two wayward lovers.

"Just when I thought it could not get anymore complicated, we must now reprise our old roles, but 'tis no bother. Most importantly I want to know how your mother is faring?" she inquired.

"She's improving, but very slowly. I arrived just in time, thank god. She was near death's door. Tough thing is she can't work for some time—complications with her heart because of the typhoid. My sister Mary takes care of both Mama and the younger ones, so she can't work much either. I couldn't find a job nearby, so his Lordship's offer was the next best thing. I'll work at Downton as long as necessary."

"I am glad that she is better. I want to help, if I can," she assured him grabbing hold of his arm.

"Thank you. I sometimes I forget to ask for help. Men—we're a proud lot," he looked at her with an earnest expression that she found surprising, he had always been the one to help her.

She put her arm around his shoulder and softly kissed his cheek. "She'll rally back, especially now that her son is out of this awful war."

"It is good to be out of the line of fire. I've left the battle, but I'm not so sure the war has left me you might say."

"Is everything alright?" she asked.

"Sleeping isn't so easy anymore. At night, when its quiet, I sometimes can still hear explosions, I still cringe at the shrieking sound of bombardments, and can't stop hearing the screams—it" he abruptly ended his thought. She noticed the color had drained from his face. His calm blue eyes that had once been so fearless were now filled with fear. She held him tighter.

Then Branson suddenly stood up and took her hand to pull her up.

"Enough," he shrugged composing himself. "My dearest friend, as much as I'd love to stay the day here with you in this beautiful spot, his Lordship and Ladyship await their youngest daughter's arrival."

"Yes, I suppose we must be getting home." She put her arm in his and they walked back to the road. He helped her into the car, kissing her hand, "Soon it will be to our home."

"Yes soon, till then my love," he replied caressing her face.

They drove through town, then onto Downton. The car pulled up to the house and Mr. Carson instantly opened front door. Out stepped her mother and father, followed by Henry, the first footman who carried in her bag. Branson came around to open the car door and helped Sybil out.

"Sybil my dear," her mother welcomed her grasping her two hands.

"Mama! Papa!" she said greeting her parents who walked with her toward the front door. She heard the car restart and glanced back to observe Branson driving around to the back of the house. The old roles, along with its rules and divisions were indeed soundly back in place.

* * *

Shortly after she arrived, Cora informed her that Isobel had invited them to tea with Granny and Matthew. Sybil wanted to see her cousins, so she quickly freshened up. Branson drove her and Cora over to Crawley house. Again not being able to talk to him, having to hide their relationship from her family was far more difficult than she had anticipated. Deception, she realized, was not one of her strong suits.

Tea at Crawley House was lovely. The sitting room was bathed in sunlight. Isobel updated Sybil on all the Cottage Hospital news, whose services had expanded to contend with the returning soldiers. She promised to assist Isobel, the nurses, and Dr. Cook during the week. But she was most happy to have time to talk to Cousin Matthew, who she always found to be an ally in all things family. He had said very little during most of the tea, his mood seemed withdrawn. She asked if he wished to go outside for some fresh air. His eyesight was improving, but his eyes were still bandaged to avoid infection as they healed—thus, for all intents and purposes he was still blind. She helped him out of the room and to the garden in front of the house. They sat on a small bench. It was a lovely spring afternoon.

"I know Granny likes to dominate the conversation, but I didn't think she could shut you up," Sybil started.

"Yes, sorry—I've been a bit remote these days." Changing the topic he told her, "Mother says that the method you recommended for applying the bandages and the suave you sent has helped the area around my eyes to heal much faster. Thank you, Dr. Crawley. Its nice to have another doctor in the family."

"Mind you I'm not a doctor just yet. But you are most welcome. I've been assisting a wonderful doctor who has been doing research on wound treatment. We spent a month in Boulogne training military doctors and nurses on these new methods."

"Mother informed me in a letter of your French adventures, how ever did Cousin Cora and Robert let you go?"

"I certainly asked them—I just didn't wait around for their response. I think Granny is still peeved at the thought of her granddaughter anywhere near a battlefield. Somehow she thinks I was manning the artillery. But I am glad that your eyes are better. We saw a lot more of these mustard gas injuries as the war wore on."

"Yes it's a bit of a bother not being able to see anything. 'Non-sighted solicitor' does have a ring to it. Although I haven't been let go from the military just yet. I'm waiting to hear what they plan to do with me next, assuming my eyes should return to normal."

"I do know they are letting some soldiers go home, so the war is hopefully winding down. If you don't' mind my asking what has Mary had to say about all of this?"

"You know your sister—she wants everything perfect. And at the moment I am far from perfect," Matthew said with an undertone of defeat. "So to be honest I don't know where we stand. It was all going so well. Then this happened."

"Yes, my sister has high expectations. I suspect she would have asked God to work on the seventh day just to get things how she wanted them. But I so hoped she had become more open and less restless about being corralled into what she initially perceived to be a marriage of convenience. I will talk to her while I'm here." But she realized Matthew also needed reassurance, he had been through a lot with the war and now this injury. She added, "I do know she loves you very much—that she has told me. I think you'll just have to be patient with her, she'll come around."

"Patience, it's my constant companion. I've not had much to do these days but to wait—I suppose it's my lot for now. But thank you, you've always had the clearest vision—so to speak—for how things are and not how you imagine them to be. I appreciate your candor and your friendship," he held out his hand for hers and he kissed it much to Sybil's surprise.

"Not looking to move on to another Crawley sister are we Cousin Matthew? I think Mama is itching to get me married as soon as she can," Sybil laughed.

"Oh no, one in my life is quite enough at the moment. And the fellow that wins your kind heart will be the most fortunate man on earth." And the two cousins returned to the rest of the party.

Branson came back to pick up Cora and Violet around 4 o'clock. Sybil couldn't return to that claustrophobic motorcar, so she decided to walk back to Downton. Her mother reminded her it would be dark soon and not wander off before the dinner bell.

* * *

She walked up the road thinking about her encounters with the two soldiers—Branson and Matthew. The war had shattered the confidence of these once vigorous men. As she passed through the gate, she saw her father in the distance, probably returning from meeting with one of the estate's agents. She also noticed her father who was normally quite cheerful, seemed to be more solemn in his temperament and she hoped Edith's wedding would boost his mood. She yelled and waved, "Papa, Papa." He noticed her and stopped. She ran to catch up. "Can we take a turn through mother's garden? Her tulips are always extraordinary."

"You've had a busy day, haven't you, how are Isobel and Matthew?" Lord Grantham asked her as they headed toward the garden.

"They are well, although Matthew seems to bit out of sorts, which is to be expected with his blindness and all," she replied.

"Yes this war has been the hardest on his generation."

"When you were younger and went off to fight—how did you cope with coming home?"

"When I went off to South Africa wars had beginnings and endings. I don't know if it's the mechanization that makes this conflict seem never ending. The scores of men I've trained and for what I sometimes ask myself—to be slaughtered by airplanes or motorized tanks or long-range artillery? Its difficult knowing you've sent promising young men off to die."

"Yes, I too wondered about the men that came in an endless stream through our hospital wards. Would the flood it ever trickle to a halt? We patched them up, sent them back out and then what?" she told her father.

"For such a young woman—you've seen an awful lot. I've always tried to shelter you girls from the ugliness of the world. Tried to take care of you like your mother's exquisite flowers here, but you've always been the one with the cause, eager to test the world. I will say I've grown to appreciate your commitment. And I am proud of your accomplishments, though not always pleased with how you go about doing them."

"Thank you Papa. I know I tend toward the unconventional its just my nature I suppose. I…" she wanted to tell him about her engagement to Branson, but thought they should tell him together.

"But to your question about Matthew and coping. I don't know how this crop of men will adjust to coming home. It's been nothing but ruthless combat out there." He stopped to tell her, "Perhaps the love of a good woman might do the trick—on that point you might remind your sister Mary to be a bit more attentive to Matthew, he's a fine man, a worthy inheritor of this estate."

"Yes, I've already promised as much to Matthew." Father and daughter were walking up the drive and almost home as the dinner bell rang.

* * *

It was wonderful to have all of the family gathered for dinner, especially before the other guests arrived tomorrow. Everyone, including Matthew, was in good spirits and excited about the next three days of wedding festivities. Sybil was happy to see Edith be at the forefront of everyone's admiration and attention for a change.

She chose to retire early, using the long day as an excuse for departing the drawing room. She told Carson to let Anna know she did not need any assistance with her dress. Ready for bed she decided to read a bit before going to sleep. She opened a book that Branson had recommended; she was still parsing through his long list. All evening her mind turned to him, where he was in the house, whether he was dining alone? She couldn't help sense that something was amiss—it had been a difficult reentry for him with the sudden severity of his mother's illness. In the end her world was still secure, but Branson bore the brunt of the responsibility for making sure that his family had food to eat and a place to live. She understood that the job at Downton was his family's lifeline and she would do nothing to jeopardize this.

Perhaps being outside all day—in the forest, the gardens, the estate—gave her a sense of freedom, in ways that being inside the great house, where worlds were striated between upstairs and downstairs, could not. Over that past two years their love had survived the trauma of war, against all sorts of challenges, but the impediments of social class might be their biggest hurdle yet. She longed to go to her love, but Downton's countless rooms and miles of corridors, the levels of rank and social duties now kept them far apart—her ensconced upstairs in her bedroom and him in a cottage somewhere on the estate grounds.


	17. Guest Who?

_This chapter was fun to write. More to come. Enjoy!

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AGAINST ALL ODDS

Chapter 17 – Guest Who?

It had been a restless night and she'd barely slept, again her dream about the tempest resurfaced. Sybil awoke the next day eager to get started. She planned to spend the morning at the Cottage Hospital and the afternoon welcoming guests staying at Downton. A large dinner had been planned at Sir Anthony's home for all of the party. If she kept busy Sybil surmised that she wouldn't be distracted by her desire to see Branson knowing he was always somewhere nearby. Just then she heard a knock.

"Come in."

"Good morning milady," Anna came into the room.

"Anna, good morning, come in. Yesterday was so hectic I barely had a chance to find out how you are?"

"I'm doing well milady. Thank you for asking. Its good to have almost everyone back home. Mrs. Hughes and Mr. Carson are pleased to have the house full again. And nice to have Branson around again, was a pleasant surprise to see him don't you think?"

"Indeed it is good to have people about the house it reminds me of the days before the war. And Mr. Bates, might he be coming home soon?" Sybil decided to bat the ball back into Anna's court.

"We hope. We're planning to be married this July," Anna said.

"That is the best news so far! I am glad you two have set the date," Sybil warmly told Anna.

"I stopped in to see if you needed any help. I know you're the proud 'independent woman' these days," she said with a hint of sarcasm, "but old habits die hard milady."

"No, I'm fine. But I may need your assistance this evening. I had a new dress made for a special occasion, the first in two years, so I think I'll wear it tonight. And want my hair to look just right."

"I'll check in then. Oh, and her Ladyship wants to see you right away before breakfast—something about a surprise. She's still in her room."

"Thank you, I'll stop by on my way downstairs."

Once dressed Sybil walked down the hall toward her mother's room. She couldn't imagine what "surprise" Cora had in store for her, but she had a sinking feeling it had more to do with meddling in her personal life than anything.

"Good morning Mama," she said entering Cora's room, as her mother finished her tea in bed.

"Oh there you are, glad Anna found you. Please come sit down," as Cora patted the bed covering.

"It's going to be a busy few days, it will be nice to have guests afoot. It's been a long time since there's been a happy occasion around here."

"Yes, its about the guests that I wanted to speak to you. Now I don't want you to think I'm meddling in your life, but I sort of asked…" Cora started to say. "Well I invited an escort for you to your sister's wedding" she finally blurted out.

"You did what?" Sybil her replied shocked and annoyed by her mother's confession. She quickly cycled through the list of likely escorts that Cora might have had in mind. "Its not one of Lord Hawkesmoor's boys is it; that poor oaf trampled my feet during my first season. Oh mother how could you?"

"Well I followed Rosamond's suggestion," Cora evaded the question.

"What does my aunt have to do with this," Sybil began to squirm at her mother's delay tactics, "_Who_ did you invite?"

"She said you were spending time together and that he made you an offer…" Cora tried to explain.

Sybil was now thoroughly confused—surely Rosamond had no inkling of Branson. She demanded an explanation in a tone that clearly made Sybil her father's daughter, "Who Mama, _who_ did you invite as a guest to Downton?"

"It's Dr. McNeil. He's coming on the morning train. Branson is to pick him up from Ripon," Cora finally confessed.

"Arthur…Dr. McNeil? Wait, wait you invited Dr. McNeil as my escort to Edith's wedding?"

"Yes, tell me I didn't make a mistake? Rosamond was so sure that he had…" Cora asked sheepishly.

Sybil took a deep breath. "Mother I know you mean well. You want me married off to who knows whom—the sooner the better. But its not Dr. McNeil I'm in love with," she realized she may have given away too much. "What I mean is he's a friend, he's my mentor, not my fiancé," which was true—he wasn't the one to whom she was engaged.

"But I remember distinctly you mentioned his name as a possible suitor some time ago. And what about his offer?"

"Mama, Aunt Rosamond completely twisted everything around. Dr. McNeil has asked me to become his research assistant. I hadn't told you and Papa, because it's not certain if it's going to happen. He hasn't asked me to marry him, he's asked me to work with him," she clarified the situation to her mother.

"Oh dear, I am sorry. Well, I sure he's a nice man and will enjoy a weekend in the country?" Cora tried to rationalize her interference.

"What a mess! Of course he accepted your invitation. And of course he's coming." Sybil relented, mortified at the thought that the doctor would be coming to Downton. She had never revealed that she was the daughter of an Earl. He must be quite confused and she was going to have a lot of explaining to do.

* * *

Sybil worked at the hospital in the morning. She taught Isobel and the nursing staff an abridged version of the new wound treatment techniques. And by way of the knowledge gained from two years of medical training, she was able to help Dr. Cook care from some of the more seriously injured soldiers. It was a busy few hours, but she was happy for the distraction. She walked back to Downton to change. Cora had some errands to take care of and had asked Sybil to welcome their guests, which now included Dr. McNeil.

She was sitting in the drawing room, when she heard voices in the hall. It was Aunt Rosamund and her friend Lady Sanderson, along with Dr. McNeil. They must have all taken the same train from Kings Cross and Branson had retrieved them from the station in Ripon.

"Aunt Rosamund, Lady Sanderson" she came over and kissed her aunt, though still roiled by her meddling, and then shook the hand of her aunt's friend.

Next, she offered in the most welcoming fashion that papered over all feelings of utter embarrassment, "Ah, Dr. McNeil welcome to Downton. So happy you could come up for the weekend. And you've met my Aunt and her friend?" She then graciously addressed the three "Carson will show you your rooms and then we have prepared a small lunch in the drawing room. I will see you all very shortly."

The group returned in an hour. They reconvened along with Mary in the drawing room for light lunch. Sybil finally had her chance to apologize to Dr. McNeil. The doctor was a tall man with spindly legs and fair hair. His suits always fit on the baggy side and were slightly wrinkled. He loved a good conversation and was indeed a very pleasant companion, as Sybil had discovered in Boulogne. So if she had to spend a weekend with a man of her mother's choosing she could have done much worse. He stood gazing out of the window as Sybil approached him.

"I hope you find your room to your liking," she began.

"Yes, it seems quite comfortable, thank you. Stunning grounds you have here," McNeil replied in baritone voice whose rolling r's betrayed hints of his Scottish upbringing.

"It's a good hike around the gardens, so perhaps we can take a walk after lunch, if you wish," Sybil was determined to make his weekend was pleasant as possible and hoped her mother's gaff would not affect their professional relationship.

"Yes, that would be most enjoyable," he responded warmly.

Sybil invited the others to join them. Rosamund and Lady Sanderson were keen on a walk after their long train ride up from London. Mary declined citing she was going to the village to help Edith with the final fitting for her wedding gown. The group departed shortly after they had finished lunch.

Sybil and the doctor soon outpaced the other two in their party as they toured the grounds. They began to walk beyond the topiary up a small hill. This was Sybil's opportunity to explain herself to her mentor.

"Splendid view, rugged yet somehow ordered," he said taking in the air.

"Indeed, I loved sitting here as a child and imagining what worlds existed beyond the tree tops. Capability Brown, the landscape architect for the first Earl Grantham, had a flair for making everything look natural, even though it's been completely designed." She then launched into her speech, "Dr. McNeil I believe I owe you an apology for my mother's confusion in dragging you all the way up here this weekend. I hope it has not caused offense?"

"Why of course not, no offense taken. Did you not know about this, I thought for sure the invitation had come from you?"

"No I did not know. My mother has a misperception about who you are. And I should also apologize for not telling you about my family. I simply wanted to be judged on my abilities. I didn't mean to be deceptive, only vague."

"Well I will confess I was surprised by the invitation and letter from Lady Grantham. I supposed I accepted mostly out of curiosity, as well as perhaps other motives."

"What do you mean?" Sybil was a little confused by his forthrightness.

"Sybil, I'm just an eccentric physician who spends most of his time in books and beakers, I rarely get to share the company of an engaging, bright young woman, who I have to say I do find intriguing. I've the utmost respect for you and believe you'll make a fine physician. Perhaps, perhaps we…" and just then Rosamund and Lady Sanderson called out that they intended to turn back.

"Um…perhaps we should join them," Dr. McNeil said.

The group walked back to the house just in time to change for dinner at Sir Anthony's.

* * *

Anna helped Sybil finish her hair that she had cleverly pinned up in a Grecian fashion with braids and curls. The hairstyle complemented her new dress that had a low V-neckline and cascaded from her waist like a handkerchief. When Anna was done she walked Sybil over to the mirror, she said "Milady you look like a real Greek goddess this evening. Dressed for someone special?"

Sybil blushed, wondering momentarily if she had any notion of her relationship with Branson. "Perhaps." Sybil replied cryptically, the young women two giggled. "I should go downstairs 'mama's escort' will no doubt be waiting."

"Oh the doctor. Well now he seems like a nice Scotsman. I think he has a thing for you milady."

"Mama and my aunt seemed to think he had proposed marriage and dragged the poor man up here, but he is a kind sweet man and I do want him to enjoy his weekend—since he came all this way."

"Who knows in that dress perhaps you'll get a proposal before the evening's over milady" Anna quipped. Still embarrassed by the situation her mother had created, Sybil did not quite see the humor.

Branson was to drive Sybil and Dr. McNeil over to Sir Anthony's along with Mary, Matthew and Isobel. As she walked out of the house she noticed him waiting by the car. She couldn't take her eyes off of him and barely heard a word of what anyone else was saying.

She noticed his smile brighten as she came toward him. "Good evening Branson," Sybil spoke gazing deeply into his eyes.

"Good evening milady," he said transfixed by her beauty; time for both seemed to stop.

Then Mary piped up to catch her sister's attention, "Did you forget something Sybil? Branson shall we go?"

"No quite the contrary I just remembered something very important to me," she replied to her sister, although its meaning was only known to Branson.

"Glad to hear that milady, we're off then," Branson responded as he helped Sybil into the car.

The evening was festive. The women sat in the drawing room after dinner. Edith chatted with her mother. Mary was engaged in conversation with her aunt, Isobel, and Lady Sanderson. Sybil talked with Violet, who was in rare form.

"Sybil, lovely dress, but a tad bit too revealing don't you think? One should hope you are channeling Artemis rather than Aphrodite my dear."

"Oh Granny, I haven't bought a new evening dress in two years—its all the rage in Paris—for the modern woman."

"I knew letting you go over to the France amongst those heathen people would expedite your moral downfall."

Just then the men entered the room. Dr. McNeil walked in her direction; he was followed by Sir Anthony's nephew, Winston Strallon, who had sat on the other side of her at dinner. Winnie—as he was called by his family—was a lieutenant in West Yorkshire regiment, but had yet to see action on any of the fronts. He was a pleasant young man, just the kind that Cora had in mind for her youngest daughter. Both were intent on engaging her conversation. But Sybil's heart and mind that night were clearly elsewhere, but neither of the men seemed to notice her state of distraction.

After they returned to Downton, Dr. McNeil sat with Sybil in the library talking about the hospital and his research over a glass of port. The other guests had all retired.

"This was a lovely evening. Good company. Well I'll have to thank your mother for the gracious invitation."

"I am glad you are enjoying your visit Dr. McNeil and I am happy you came."

"Please as I've told you its Arthur."

"Yes, Arthur, I'm sorry."

"Sybil, as I said earlier my mind's mostly in my work, don't really get out much, but this weekend has shown me that there's so much else to life, so for me in many ways its already been an enlightening trip."

"I'm happy to hear that," she smiled.

"I've realized that I've been a rather lonely bachelor and do need companionship now and then. Your mother may have pushed a bit, but do you think that you and I, that we might?"

Sybil was completely taken off-guard by his question, she hadn't realized the depth of his admiration, "I'm glad the time here at Downton has been regenerative." Next she had to clarify her own situation, "Arthur, I do value you as a friend, you've been extraordinarily generous to me, but I must confess—and no one else knows this, so I appreciate your discretion—but I am engaged."

"Alas, your heart belongs to someone else, he is a lucky chap whoever he is, congratulations!" And Dr. McNeil seemed to be earnestly pleased at both her announcement and that she trusted his confidence. He then added, "Please I hope my admiration for you won't affect our working relationship. As I said I have the utmost respect for your intelligence and abilities. And I am truly happy for you."

"You have paid me the highest compliment and I look forward to working with you in the future," Sybil told her friend. And she did value his friendship and in some ways after being engaged in secret for four months, she was relieved to finally tell someone who was happy for her.

He shook her hand and departed the drawing room. Sybil went over to retrieve her coat, which she had left on the nearby sofa and quietly slipped out of the front door.

* * *

Anna had been right, she did get a proposal of sorts this evening and Winnie had certainly been flirtatious and interested. But she was deeply in love with someone else and desperately needed to see him. Their lives had been thrown together by the war and now shut off by the walls of rank. Time had taken care of the former, but she was determined to conquer the latter.

Since the grounds of Downton had been her playground as a child, Sybil knew all the nooks, pathways, and secret passages. The moon was full, so she easily found her way to the cottage near the garage. She slowly opened the door and heard someone yell out.

"No, get out of the way…" Branson screamed in his sleep.

Sybil ran across the room to his bed and tried to shake him awake, "Tom, wake up."

"Who, who is it?" he asked startled and now sitting upright.

"My love, its me, its Sybil. You're safe, I'm here," she told him, wrapping her arms around him. "You were having a bad dream."

"Yes I must have had that nightmare again, it's been so hard to sleep. I keep seeing the corporal's body shredded beyond recognition. Its awful, so awful."

"God the horrid things you must have seen out there. You'll be fine," she softly said holding him and soothing his shaking body. They stayed this way for several minutes as he found calmness again.

Pulling out of their embrace Branson asked "Sybil, what are you doing here?" "You shouldn't be here," he chastised her realizing that she was in his quarters.

"I couldn't stay away. I had to see you. I couldn't stop thinking about you all day and last night."

"Neither could I," he agreed. Indeed he was happy she to see her, despite the risks. "But you really can't stay long."

"I know I waited till all were asleep, but I just had to make sure you were well. You are so close by and yet our respective positions in this big household conspire to keep us far apart."

"It's a difficult situation, I know. I've too been frustrated. Seeing you this last day but knowing there's wall of propriety that now separates us; seeing you tonight with the doctor, who seems a nice fellow, was not easy."

"Bit jealous were we?" Sybil cajoled.

"I don't mean to be possessive, but when you approached the car tonight, I've never seen a more beautiful vision."

"I wore it especially for you," standing up to show him her dress.

"Here in the moonlight you're even more bewitching," he smiled.

"There now, your horrid nightmare has been transformed to a beautiful fantasy, that is why I am here," she held out her hands and he pulled her onto the bed and into his arms.

"No matter what happens between us, remember I love you, always," then he drew her into a kiss.

Sybil she stayed the night at the cottage. Branson gave his surprise guest one his shirts for a nightgown. Warmed by their bodies and lulled by the sense of calm each provided the other, the two lovers fell asleep peacefully in each other's arms.


	18. I Will

_More hurdles. More to come. Thanks for the wonderful comments and reviews. Enjoy!

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AGAINST ALL ODDS

Chapter 18 – I Will

Sybil hated leaving Branson, something was always pulling them apart. But she had accepted that no matter how much she needed him, she couldn't endanger his position in light of his current family situation nor did she want to upset her family. The two lovers said their farewells and she made her way back to the main house. Moving stealthily she managed to sneak into the kitchen and up the back stairs to her bedroom before the staff woke up for their early morning chores. When she entered her bedroom much to her surprise the fire had already been started—she wondered who had already been in her room and would have noticed she hadn't slept in her bed. Surely Sarah the chambermaid had not been up this early. Sybil decided she'd ask Anna later that morning.

As she lay awake, she reflected upon the previous hours she had spent with Branson. He was her best friend and she valued their openness and honesty. Their growing intimacy meant she could intuit his feelings. She could sense he was holding something back, but she did not want to press him on the matter. He had always been so optimistic and vibrant, but there were now moments of melancholy that were out of character. She was certain in part he was still deeply concerned about his mother's health.

Clearly the war had taken a greater toll on his psyche than she realized. Doctors around the University had been experimenting with new psychiatric methods on soldiers who suffered from what they were diagnosing as "shell shock." From her nursing experience with the recuperating patients, she knew that this new form of warfare with its killing machines and sudden gas attacks had impacted the mental state of soldiers in ways that doctors did not yet know how to cure. The range of moods she encountered with her father, Matthew, and Branson revealed to her the depth of emotional carnage the war had wrought on the men who lived the battlefields as well as commanded behind the scenes. She knew that she would have to reassure Branson that his homecoming would provide some semblance of stability after the quicksand of conflict he had endured for the past three years. In her mind the sooner they were married the better it would be for him.

She dozed off till she heard a knock on her door—it was Anna and it was still early.

"Good morning, milady. Big day today for Lady Edith."

"Indeed," she yawned and stretched as she sat up. "Anna, do you know who started the fire in my room this morning?" Sybil asked trying not to reveal that she had been absent most of the night. Although she knew that she could trust Anna's discretion.

"I did milady. I, well I came up last night to check in on you to see if you need help gettin' out of your gown, but you weren't here. I hope you don't mind, I thought I'd check in early before Sarah saw maybe you weren't in, thought you might not want the household gossipin'."

"Thank you Anna. You are sorely right, if it ever got out where I was last night others besides myself would suffer."

"You can trust I won't say a word milady."

"Can I ask you something personal?" Sybil inquired.

"Yes I'll do my best to answer," Anna replied. Having been her lady's maid for several years the two women shared the intimacy of close friends.

"How did you know you wanted to marry Mr. Bates? I mean yes I know you love him, but why get married?"

"That's a big question early in the morning milady—but tis a wedding day, so I suppose it makes sense. I guess I fell in love with him kind of gradual like."

"But when did marriage enter the picture, why was he the one?" Sybil probed her friend.

"With his still being married when he started at Downton, marriage wasn't first on my mind. He's a proud man who will do anything to make sure those around him are treated fairly, including taking the blame himself for things he didn't do—like with Thomas and O'Brien's schemes a while back and with his wife's thieving. You don't find too many men like him and I guess I liked that about him. He made me feel I'd be safe with him."

"That is true he's a decent man. I think this is why my father is so loyal to him. You are so fortunate to have found such a truly noble individual to spend your life with."

Then Anna added with a saucy smile, "And if you don't mind my saying—he's also a great kisser milady!" And the two women giggled. Curious, Anna then asked her, "Did milady by chance get a marriage proposal last night from the good doctor?"

"Well, you were right as always, Dr. McNeil did inquire if we might get more serious. And Sir Anthony's nephew seemed intent on engaging me in conversation the entire evening. But to be honest Anna my heart is truly elsewhere."

"Elsewhere milady?" Anna probed, knowing perhaps already what she meant. "Everyone said that you were a stunner in that dress and that you had two suitors occupying your time all evening. Some were even talking odds that you'd be the next Crawley sister to get married."

"Oh Anna, can you sit down here for a moment," Sybil asked. Then she blurted out "I am going to be married. Tom and I engaged."

"That's wonderful news milady, but Tom who?" Anna replied confused by whom she referenced.

"What I mean is that Branson and I are engaged to be married. I was with him last night, hence the empty bed," a statement which hung in the air several seconds before Anna responded.

"Thank god you both finally realized you were in love," Anna sighed with relief. "I could tell how much Branson loved you by the way he reacted every time your name came up—the lovesick soul was always praising your virtues. And you milady couldn't stop smiling and blushing in his presence. You were both moony eyed—anyone could see it," she teased. "Branson's a good man; he's got ambition. Mr. Bates is very fond of him. Well I'm glad you'll be getting married, as I said tis a 'wedding day,' isn't it?" she happily hugged her friend.

"Anna I'm glad to tell someone else, I don't know how we are going to tell my parents. Dr. McNeil is the only other person who knows I am engaged but doesn't know it's to Tom," Sybil confessed. "We realized we were in love over two years ago in London. And I saw him again in Boulogne, thanks to poor Thomas. That is where he asked me to marry him—to be so close to war and yet be so in love—it was like a dream."

"Sounds like a romance right out of a novel," Anna remarked.

"Perhaps it's been a somewhat clandestine love affair. But now its feels like the reality our respective worlds may be our most difficult challenge. I guess that is why I asked you those questions about marriage."

"Milady, getting and being married isn't easy and Mr. Bates and I, we've had our difficulties in the past that's for sure. And truth be told, if we get married neither of us can keep our jobs here at Downton."

"What are you saying?" she responded quizzically.

"Tis the rules, no married staff in the household. So we'll be needin' to find new work come July. Can't live on love alone."

"But that is ridiculous, you've been a part of this household for more than ten years, since you were a teenager!" she said aghast at the prospect Anna would lose her job because she decided to marry another staff member no less.

"I'm going to have to leave and Mr. Bates will not be able to assume his valet position to his Lordship."

"I promise you no you won't, not if I have something to say about it," Sybil assured Anna, with a take no prisoners tone in her voice. And with that she got out of bed and began getting dressed. She was going to see her father before breakfast.

* * *

Lord Grantham was sitting at his desk reviewing ledgers when his youngest daughter entered the Library. This room always befitted his character as custodian of Downton. The books were the legacy of the previous Earls, so her father worked amongst the knowledge of his predecessors. It was where he seemed the most at home.

"Good morning Papa, hope you are well." Sybil greeted her father who looked up from his task.

"Sybil you are up early after being up so late. Lovely evening at Sir Anthony's don't you think?" as he turned back to his ledger.

"Yes, may I talk to you for a moment."

"Of course, I thought I'd take care of a few things before we have to leave for the church at 11 o'clock. Give me a minute," as he continued to peruse the column grids. He then commented, "good to have Branson back. Don't know for how long. He has asked me for reference letter for a new job at a motorcar factory. He's training young Joseph to take over his duties if need be. Enterprising young man, it's not easy to rise up from a private to a staff sergeant in the army. While not too fond of his radical politics, always thought the man had a spark, don't you think?" as he closed his book and turned around to address his daughter.

"Um yes, quite a remarkable young man," Sybil arched a brow, secretly delighted at her father's high regard for her fiancé. "Papa I want to talk to you about Anna and Mr. Bates."

"Yes, what about them?" Robert tilted his head surprised that this was the topic of discussion for his daughter.

"They will be married in July—hopefully Mr. Bates will be out of the military by then."

"That is true," Robert listened.

"But they will both lose their jobs here at Downton, due to some silly antiquated rule. And with so many men sure to be coming home from the war soon, how can you turn out these two valuable members of this household?" she argued to her father, who she knew cared deeply about all those in his employment and would always attempt to do what is best for all.

"Sybil, I know you mean well. But those are the rules of how we run the house. It would be going against custom."

"Well when you wed Mama, weren't you breaking custom by marrying an American and not an English aristocrat?"

"Yes, but that was different. It was a question of how to continue to maintain this household. It was, to put it rather crassly, an issue of money."

"What's the difference? Mr. Bates and Anna need work to maintain their household and you will be robbing them of a stable livelihood. And anyway you couldn't have just married Mama for her money?"

"To be honest, at first it was more of a business arrangement than anything negotiated by your grandfather. But in the end I fell madly in love with your mother."

"So marriage is also as you say about who you love? And Mr. Bates loves Anna and they need to start their own household. Isn't there something you might be able to do to keep them on?"

"Sybil I appreciate your concern, but this is something that I cannot change," Robert insisted, thus refusing his daughter's entreaty.

"You'll see Papa, after this blasted war is over things won't be the same. The old rules and customs will give way to the new. And everyone's going to have learn how to do things differently," she boldly stated. Sybil forewarned her father about the impending changes that she knew wasn't just going to be amongst the household staff, but within his own family. "Thank you for at least listening to my request." Vexed and frustrated at her father's impenetrability, she headed off to breakfast, then to change into her wedding attire.

* * *

Edith and Sir Anthony's ceremony at the local church was a small affair attended by family and a few close friends. Edith wore a simple silk dress in off-white, with a lace veil and the groom wore a traditional morning suit. Sybil and Mary were their sister's bridesmaids; his brother and nephew stood up with Sir Anthony. Their simple exchange of vows cemented the commitment that had grown between these two people who were not initially intended for one another, but had somehow found common ground.

After the noon ceremony, the wedding party and their guests returned to Downton for a luncheon and celebratory toasts. Dr. McNeil seemed to be enjoying himself, so Sybil was relieved that their talk last night had not soured their friendship. And throughout the day she caught glimpses of Branson as he ferried various guests back and forth from Downton to the church. While the staff had been busy catering to guests, they all stopped their duties and joined in a toast wishing the newly married couple well. Sybil noticed that Branson had come into the hall to be amongst the well-wishers. The two lovers smiled discreetly at one another across the crowded room.

Robert and Cora were pleased to have one daughter married especially the one they had both assumed would be their caretaker in old age. Their parents gave both Sybil and Mary the knowing look that the expectation was that they would be wed soon.

Annoyed by the constant prodding, Mary remarked to Sybil, "One down, two to go. Mother is revving up to push one of us down the aisle within the year—you can bet on it."

"You tell me. This fiasco with Dr. McNeil shows there's no end to her meddling. Enlisting Aunt Rosamund no less. I know she meant well, but really," Sybil agreed with her older sister's observation. Then she and Mary walked arm in arm out front for some fresh air as they finished sipping their champagne.

"Anyway what is happening with you and Matthew, I thought you were soon to set a date?"

"I know, I know. I have trouble living up to everyone's expectations—it's like being fenced in, being domesticated like some wild pony. They push in one direction and I bolt in the other," Mary confessed to her little sister.

"Matthew loves you and needs you, especially now. I'm most certain his vision will return. I saw quite a few of these sorts of injuries in our wards and in France. His injury right now seems devastating given his eyes are bandaged, but they will heal and should be 100 percent."

"Matthew is a good man. Better than I deserve."

"No, you're so wrong," Sybil interrupted her sister's self-deprecating speech, "Mary you've earned his love. He's dedicated to you. You just have to wakeup and realize it for yourself."

Mary was startled at her sister's forceful pearls of wisdom, "so when did you become the authority on love and marriage, with your head in the books too busy to socialize—Dr. Crawley?"

"Seems common sense to me," she replied, not quite ready to reveal her secret to the family.

"Indeed sensible. And you are right—Matthew is a remarkable person, someone who will make a fine steward of Downton. And I am lucky to have his love and commitment. I just need a little reminder every now and then. Thank you." The two sisters rejoined the celebrations. Mary went over to Matthew who sat in one of the chairs in the hall and took him out to the garden.

The happy couple left for their honeymoon by late afternoon. And the rest of the guests ventured into Downton's various rooms for conversation and relaxation. In the drawing room, Cousin Isobel talked with Dr. McNeil for most of the evening, sharing stories about various friends the doctor had in common with her late husband. Mary remained attentive to Matthew. By 8 o'clock all the guests had either returned to their respective homes or retired to their rooms preparing for their journey back to London tomorrow morning.

As Sybil walked into the hall to change out of her wedding attire Anna slipped her a note. It read: _Meet me at the temple at nine tonight. Tom

* * *

_

Since everyone had gone up early and the staff was busy cleaning up downstairs, it was easy for Sybil to slip out unnoticed and walk over to the temple, which was a short walk east of the main house. The moon was just beginning to wane, so the path was clear, although the night air was still crisp.

"Tom are you here?" Sybil spoke into the night as she looked for him beneath the large colonnade.

"I'm over here," he indicated standing near one of the large fluted columns. Still in his uniform he came up to Sybil and planted a gentle kiss on the lips. "I'm glad you got my message."

"Yes Anna gave it to me. You should know I told her about us—she sort of covered for me last night," she informed him.

"We took a big risk and I can't ask you to do that again."

"Perhaps we won't have to conceal our engagement too much longer, I hope we'll be married soon," she instantly sensed his mood "Tom what is the matter?"

"Sybil, I have to leave Downton," he broke the news to her.

"But why? What's happened?" Sybil asked completely knocked off kilter by this sudden turn of events.

"Its my mother, she's taken ill again. My sister sent a telegram that came this afternoon. I have to leave on the train tomorrow morning."

"Oh no, it can't be, she was doing so much better. Let me help. I'll go with you," she offered. She was deeply concerned about both his mother's wellbeing and another twist of fate that could be drawing them further apart.

"No, my love. For now you must stay here. Its for the best," he imparted his request with a firmness meant dissuade her from following him.

"Then please let me know as soon as you find out what her condition is, will you promise me that?"

"I will," he said aware of her anxiety. "Don't worry, as I told you last night, no matter what happens between us, know that I will love you always."

"I too love you with all that I am," she reminded him. Branson slowly put his arms around her waist. He held her close. Her hands wrapped around and caressed the back of his neck. Their bodies felt electric against one another. He slowly pulled away and looked into her eyes, then kissed her tenderly.

"You should get back before someone misses you," he took her hand and started walking with her down the path towards the house.

"Tom, call me weak, but I can't find the strength to leave you just yet. This is devastating news and I won't be able to sleep knowing that you are nearby and in such distress."

They were just in the shadow of Downton and Branson assured her, "I'll be fine. Your love gives me strength." The two lovers kissed longingly one last time. "Good-bye my dearest friend," as he drew away from her and let go of her hands, she noticed a tear in his eye.

"But you hate good-byes," she remembered confused by his address.

"Goodnight then," he said as he turned and walked toward the cottage.

As she stepped up the stair suddenly Mr. Carson opened the door.

"Lady Sybil," he said startled to see her. "I was just about to lock up, I had no idea you had stepped out. Is there anything wrong milady?" he inquired noticing she was staring out into the cold evening air.

Sybil barely heard him overwhelmed by that feeling of someone slipping away from her grasp. She replied in a distant voice, "I don't know" as she watched Branson's silhouette absorbed into the liquid darkness of the night.


	19. Departures

_More angst at Downton, but love will prevail—I promise. Reviews and comments welcome. Enjoy!

* * *

_

AGAINST ALL ODDS

Chapter 19 – Departures

Sybil sat alone in the dining room sipping a cup of tea and staring blankly out of the window. She was immersed in the quietude of the early morning.

"Oh there you are. Our departing guests should be down soon," Cora rosily greeted Sybil as she walked in for breakfast. "Looks like it will be a beautiful spring day don't you think?" she kissed her daughter on the cheek.

"Good morning," she offered in a barely audible response. She hadn't noticed the day's weather or much of anything. It had been another difficult night. She'd barely slept, distraught at Branson's news that his mother was again ill and that he would be leaving today. What would he do to help his family now that he did not have the position at Downton? Underlying that anxiety was a feeling that their relationship was caving under the social pressures of their respective classes—something that neither seemed to know how to shore-up, even though she was sure their love was stronger than ever. She again felt that part of her life was slipping away from her grasp.

"You don't look well—I know you are going to be a doctor and all, but I think Dr. Cook should take a look at you later today."

"I'm fine. Just overwhelmed by all the activity of the weekend and I'm missing class today—I have much to do when I return to London," she said trying to stave off Cora's concern. She was not too keen on explaining her mood.

Just then Dr. McNeil entered the room. "Good morning," he greeted the two women.

"Arthur, I hope you enjoyed yesterday," Sybil replied. She was still annoyed at her mother's efforts to pawn her off as quickly as possible. But she was happy in the end that Dr. McNeil had come. At least he finally knew who she was and no longer had to hide her background. More importantly his visit also cemented their friendship, one she valued and one she had cultivated outside of her family ties.

"Indeed it's been great fun, thank you again for the gracious invitation," he told them and sat down to eat his plate of eggs and bacon. Rosamund and Lady Sanderson also drifted into the room chatting about the colorful explosion of tulips and hyacinths in Cora's garden.

The party returning to London had been assembled and would depart shortly after breakfast. Sybil was staying an extra day to assist her mother with post-wedding duties and had booked her train for the following day.

* * *

After they finished the morning repast, Henry began moving the various bags outside to load onto the car as the ladies and the doctor retrieved their coats from Mr. Carson in the hall. Robert came out of the library to walk his sister and the others out; Cora and Sybil joined them outside. Finally after the long dark winter, the sun's warmth could be felt as it gently kissed the skin. It was a rare clear day.

"I hope you enjoyed your visit to Downton and will return in the future," Robert shook Dr. McNeil's hand as they stood outside in front of the house.

"Absolute pleasure, sir. You've a fine home and family. Thank you and her Ladyship for the generous hospitality. I am sure I will see you again at the ceremony for the completion of Sybil's medical studies. Your daughter is an exceptional young woman and she'll be a crack physician. You should be proud," McNeil told Lord and Lady Grantham—in deliberate earshot of Sybil.

"Indeed she is determined, she never ceases to surprise us," Robert replied raising his brows all too aware of the trouble her rebellious nature had caused them over the years. The group commenced saying their goodbyes.

Joseph had taken over Branson's duties and had pulled the car out front. Branson, who emerged from around the side of the house, was saying farewell to Mr. Carson and Mrs. Hughes. He was out of his chauffeur's uniform, wearing a dark brown suit and carrying a small bag. He would join the trip to Ripon's station since he would be taking a train westward to Liverpool.

Sybil had rarely seen Branson without a chauffeur's uniform or military dress—somehow its consistency had always fortified his character's natural conscientiousness. Its absence, however, stripped away all the formalities that had structured their relationship for past four years. It exposed a side of him, a kind of simmering vulnerability, she'd never seen (at least in the daylight.) This new dimension stirred her excitement—clearly her passion for him was unabated.

Lord Grantham called out, "Branson, please come here. I have something to give to you."

And he strode over to where they were standing. Sybil stood next to her father Cora was on his other side.

"First, I'm sorry to hear about your mother's ill health. Carson informed me of the emergency. I hope she will recover soon. And second, I want to wish you well in your future endeavors. Therefore, I thought you might need this." And he pulled out an envelope from his vest pocket, "it's the letter of reference you requested. Good luck, I have no doubt that you will be successful."

Branson looked down at the letter he was given and earnestly replied, "Thank you your Lordship. It has been a pleasure and an honor to serve you and your family. Sorry I've had to leave so abruptly." He reached out to shake the hand of his now former employer, whom Sybil knew he respected immensely.

"Good–bye, sir." "Her Ladyship," he nodded to Cora. And he glanced over to her, arched a brow and cracked a smiled, "Lady Sybil." And for a millisecond their eyes connected—she caught a hint of their clarity as the sun illuminated their blue tinge. She tried to smile back, but her sadness was beginning to bubble to the surface. He then sprinted to the other side of the car and quickly climbed in the front.

She moved her right foot forward as if to leap and began to utter "Don't…," but she stifled the urge to follow with "go Tom."

It was precisely this profound chasm between them—the divide of rank and class—that had always kept them apart. Both felt strangled by the straightjacket of decorum that restrained them from stepping out of their socially defined roles. Despite its damaging reach, the war had ironically thrust them into different uniforms—ones that made it easier to negotiate their different worlds.

Sybil looked intently at his face through the front window shield and he stared back at her. A tear slowly trickled down her cheek as Joseph started the motorcar and it pulled away from the house. She waved to everyone, but she was really bidding farewell to her lover.

"That's the last of our guests, all will be quiet again around here. Sorry to see Branson go—young man with a lot of promise," Robert remarked as they watched the car disappear down the drive.

"Sybil what was it you were about to say?" Cora noticed, "My word, are you crying? You do seem out of sorts today."

"Sorry, I'm sorry," as she turned to head back inside trying to stem the tide of emotions that she had bottled-up.

* * *

Sybil had dressed to make some local visits with her mother, but she now felt that she wanted to spend the day on her own. She went upstairs to change into clothes more suitable for a long walk. She needed to shake-off the tumult of emotions that were threatening to overwhelm her. As she came downstairs and waited in the hall for Mr. Carson to bring her coat, Anna appeared.

"Oh Anna," Sybil began, "I spoke with my father yesterday about your staying on at Downton, but it seemed to do no good. I am sorry."

"No bother, milady. I appreciate your tryin' though."

"Well perhaps I didn't try hard enough. I'm not going to give up," she assured her. Sybil was frustrated at the power her father held over so many people—influence he often wielded fairly, but not in this instance she believed. Why was it that men could so easily determine the fate of women?

"Thank you for making the effort, you've always looked out for me and the others 'round here," she said. Then she added in a whispering voice, "Milady, Branson—your Tom asked me to give you this after he left. I'm sorry 'bout his mum, hope she'll be alright." Anna handed a letter to Sybil.

Sybil was surprised. What else did he have to tell her beyond their brief talk last night?

Mr. Carson appeared with her light grey wool coat. "Here you are Lady Sybil," he instantly detected her mood. "Can I do anything to help milady?"

"Thank you Carson, no I'll be fine, I think I just need to get out the house for a bit. Would you let my mother know I won't be joining her?" she smiled and said "Thank you Anna for passing this on." She put the letter in her pocket and walked out. She headed away from the house toward the temple.

Sybil sat on the cold stone steps where she had last seen Branson and began reading his letter:

_24 March 1918_

_Downton Abbey, Yorkshire_

_My dearest friend,_

_This is the most difficult letter I've ever had to write. I hate to cause you pain or any sadness. Quite the opposite, my love for you has never wavered. Tonight it was difficult to walk away. Even now as I write this I want to find you and to ease your worry. We both care deeply for the other's wellbeing. It's because of that I want you to read this letter and understand my reasons for writing it._

_Last night when you came to the cottage it was like a fantasy, one I've often had of you since first we met. But it was a dangerous one as it could have meant your ruin in the eyes of your family. The daughter of an Earl caught in the arms of a servant—that is how society would see it, no matter how innocent it may have been. You've called me radical, but maybe it fits you best. You mow down conventions and cross boundaries without a second glance. Your fearlessness is one of the things I love about you. Every night since you have been back at Downton I've wanted to hold you and make love to you. However, I've come to realize that's not possible, much like us being married. I don't want you to sacrifice your family for me. I'll not ask you to make that choice._

_Since being back at Downton, I am more aware of the world where you call home. Your mother and father think very highly of you. Driving them around the last two weeks, you have no idea how many times of their conversations discussed how proud they are of your accomplishments. They hope you will be married soon to someone who can provide the things that will make your life better and continue with the way you've been raised. They only want the best for their daughter who they love very much. As does all of your family and those here who care about you._

_Coming home to Ireland after many years, I realize that I'm not the one who can give you that continuity. I struggle for now to provide for my own mother, brothers and sisters who depend on me. I'm from a poor family—not the son of landed gentry. My ancestors were farmers, decent hardworking people, but they haven't passed on the wealth that matters in the society in which we live. As you know my father left the farm moved to the city to become a laborer who picked up odd jobs and my mother works in a factory. I am lucky that they made sure their oldest son was educated and had the opportunities they didn't. I found my way into service and it's been rewarding. However after this awful war I don't know what's next. I can't drag you into such uncertainty. I do think that this bloody modern world is unfair to so many. I hope we can change that for the better, each in our own way. But, we are born into the families that chance gives us, hopefully they love us and we love them in return._

_In Boulogne when I proposed marriage, we were free from the strict rules that govern the lives we lead here. Over there anything seemed possible. As I said before maybe I was still delirious, I had almost died two days before. You'd barely slept for days after caring for me and the other lads on the ward. We were in the middle of a war zone and found ourselves in a foreign country miles away from the roles in which our lives had been cast. Now that I am back in my world and you in yours I realize that it was exactly as you said—a beautiful dream—one that I shall cherish and never forget._

_You've changed my life for the better. You gave me your love unconditionally and that has been profoundly enriching. I hope I have done the same for you. I am proud of your choices and believe you will impact the things you want to change. I wish you well in life and that you will find love with someone else, your heart is far too generous not to. Thank you for your kindness, caring, and strength. Know that I will love you always._

_Please do not try to find me it's best if we part this way. I'll send you note to let you know my mother's condition._

_Your friend,_

_Tom_

She took a deep breath. As she clutched his letter, Sybil unleashed the torrent of tears she had dammed up for months.

* * *

Sybil barely noticed the train as it rocked along its route back to London. She was still numb.

Yesterday she'd spent the rest of the day walking the grounds, traversing along the river to town. The day was glorious—the trees were budding their leaves and the patches wild flowers shimmied in the wind. But its beauty and promise was lost on her broken heart. She spent the afternoon at the Cottage Hospital. Immersing herself in work provided a temporary distraction. She'd barely eaten at dinner and retired early to her room. She had reread his letter several times desperate to decipher what prompted Branson to end their engagement.

She was confused at his sudden change of heart. Was he right—was she simply too naïve to recognize their relationship was doomed? Would her family and society have frowned upon their marriage? Had it all been a dream or could their love thrive in a place that they themselves would make together? She didn't and perhaps would never know the answers to these questions.

Perhaps he did have a point—the last few days had cast them on different sides of the social divide. She wondered had she been selfish by sneaking down to the cottage? Branson was concerned about her reputation, but he obviously had the most to lose. The past few days at Downton her time had been taken up by entertaining Winnie Strallon and Dr. McNeil, talking about new dresses and wedding gifts, hosting guests and wedding toasts. While he on the other hand lived a life of service catering to the needs and wants of those coming and going upstairs. He worked tirelessly all the while worrying about keeping his position to support his family back home. He was certainly proud and would want to provide for her once married. Not having steady work she surmised was a prime reason that he had ended their engagement.

Maybe these three years of trying to hide her privilege while in nursing and medical school, had given her a temporary release, but in reality she still benefitted from the opportunities it granted her. He had held up a mirror and she began to look hard and reassess who she was, perhaps with an eye toward who she could become. He taught her something about herself—as he always had done.

Over the four years as their friendship had blossomed into love, she knew him to be measured in his decisions, so clearly he had been thinking about this for a while—she had felt the beginnings of his withdrawal from her when they saw each other in January. But she also knew that Tom Branson could be stubborn as a mule and trying to change his mind once made up would be next to impossible. War had shifted his compass about what mattered to him. What he had witnessed on the killing fields of France had turned his unyielding optimism, one she had found profoundly inspiring, inward to a suffocating web of social obligations. She had seen the fear his eyes two nights ago and wanted desperately to renew his hope.

"Last stop. Arrivin' London King's Cross Station!" the conductor bellowed as he passed through the car opening compartments.

As the inbound train slowly navigated the rail yard of King's Cross, Sybil decided she needed time to plan her next move. She knew he still loved her, his letter confirmed as much. The image of Branson as he departed Downton was seared in her memory and her desire for him had only grown in intensity.

The train lurched to a halt. She decided not to wait for a porter and stood up to retrieve her bag from the rack. Branson was absolutely right Sybil was radical in spirit—perhaps more than either of them realized.


	20. Nor Hell a Fury

_More challenges for Sybil. Comments and reviews keep the creativity flowing. Hard to believe this story had ballooned to 20 chapters. Enjoy!

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AGAINST ALL ODDS

Chapter 20 – Nor Hell a Fury*

"Miss Crawley, I am waiting for your answer," Dr. Kentridge barked at Sybil.

"Well it's not the…it's the…I do not know the answer," Sybil said at a loss.

"I thought as much Miss Crawley. And I do not know if you will pass this class and complete your studies here at the London School of Medicine," he announced with an air of contempt that made the rest of the class recoil. "Ladies, that is it for today." And the women walked out of the classroom. No one dared to speak till they entered the hallway. Sybil threw on her coat and hat, and dashed out of the building. It had been a trying, demoralizing afternoon.

Sybil went to meet Louisa and Lottie at the military hospital nearby on Gower. Sybil liked that she and Louisa had stayed friends. In the next few months, Louisa would most likely return to her duties as head housemaid at the hotel. The owner was planning to reopen—at least as a temporary convalescent home for injured officers. So much was changing after several years at war.

As Sybil walked to meet her friends, she mulled over the afternoon events. She was furious at the public berating of her abilities. She was sure his question was in fact flawed in its formulation, but she was too fearful of correcting the doctor in front of her fellow students. So she decided not to answer the question—and as a consequence she had been publicly chastised and threatened. Dr. Kentridge was known to be immensely prejudicial against women, although no one ever challenged him because they were all too afraid. He had already weeded out several of her classmates at the beginning of their studies. And all of them knew they would have to survive his advanced anatomy course in order to finish—so did the doctor, thus the reason for his imperious behavior.

Sybil, however, was not about to be cowed by her professor. She had poured her energies into her studies, despite the recent turn of events in her private life. Should she meet with Dr. Kentridge and discuss privately the root problem of their recent exchange? She was not sure if that would only inflame the professor's anger and obvious dislike of her—guaranteeing she wouldn't finish in the next four weeks and endangering her chances to join Dr. McNeil's research team.

What should she do, Sybil wondered? She so wished to talk to her best friend, but she had not had any contact with Branson other than a short note as promised. His mother's health had stabilized and he would stay on to look after his family, but she had heard nothing more. Despite his letter and decision to end their engagement—she still loved him and she was confident he was still in love with her.

She met Lottie and Louisa in the entrance hall and they walked over to The Feathers. The three had become "regulars," so the men were accustomed to women in the pub; the owner always greeted them cordially and brought them their usual. Lottie and Louisa talked about the latest antics of Queen McBride and the various events around the wards. Both had seen an uptick in casualties, but also suspected that the war was finally winding down. From the talk of soldiers, the nurses got the sense that our side was winning on all fronts. Next, Sybil told the two women about her world on the other side of campus and Dr. Kentridge's threat.

"You can't take that—from him. He may be a high and mighty doctor, but he's got no right!" Lottie told her friend. Lottie was the daughter of a pharmacist from a small town in the south. She decided she wanted to become a nurse, much to the dismay of her parents; she knew all too well the challenges women faced.

"No right'at all," Louisa chimed in with an anger that heightened the pitch of her usually soft Welsh lilt, "Who does he think he is?"

"He's not high and mighty—he's a short, fat old man," she said sarcastically. "But he is the man in charge of my fate and whether I'll finish or not," Sybil added with resignation in her voice.

"Ah, no! You're in charge of your life," Louisa reminded her friend. "You go an' tell that old dwarf fart you'll not be puttin' up with his threats. These men—decidin' such things."

Sybil listened to their fiery comments, "You're both right. Who do these men think they are deciding everything for us women? We should be in charge of our own lives," Sybil told her friends in voice that reflected the level self-realization their conversation had inspired. She held up her mug to her compatriots "To women's independence." "Here, here" they all said together.

Lottie left early and Sybil and Louisa had a chance to talk about other things.

"How's your soldier?" Louisa pried.

"He's no longer my soldier," Sybil responded with a sigh.

"What d'ya mean?"

"Oh Louisa, since Boulogne my life's been turned upside from joy to despair and I don't know what to do next," Sybil confessed to her friend. Then she told her the entire story of their reunion in Boulogne, the proposal, Branson's return home, and the events of Downton.

"Well now, you've kept a lot under your hat, I thought something had happened when we left you in Boulogne, but couldn't quite figure out what. Ya just had this glow about you that seemed strange for havin' spent two days alone in a dreary military town" Louisa responded. "You'll figure somethin' out—you're not one to be down for long."

"Thank you Louisa for your vote of confidence, quite honestly it just feels good to tell someone the whole story. I'm tired of keeping everything bottled up," she said. And it was cathartic to finally reveal everything after all these months.

"Too bad he broke it off, he seems such a good fellow, straight forward and all. He must be having a difficult time then—comin' back, dealin' with everything and makin' adjustments?"

"I know he is, the war has beaten him emotionally, physically and now his family's in crisis. I want to help, but I don't know what to do."

"Of course you do," Louisa urged her friend to take matters into her own hands.

"But he expressly forbid me not to find him, I can't go against his wishes," she asked.

"When has someone tellin' you not do something stopped Sybil Crawley—what did you just say to me and Lottie about us women and independence?" Louisa reminded her.

"Touché," Sybil smiled.

After they finished, she and Louisa walked home. She dropped her friend off at the hotel and continued to Belgrave Square. As usual on her evening walks Sybil was deep in thought as she weaved through the squares and streets. Louisa of course was right she had fought hard for her independence, time for her next move.

* * *

The following week Sybil climbed the stairs of a large neo-gothic hall on the northern part of campus. Carrying a large volume on anatomy under her arm, she walked along the creaky hallway and sat down in a hard wooden chair outside of Dr. Kentridge's office. She waited patiently for her appointment to see her nemesis. The building's gloomy paneled walls heighten her anxiety.

Dr. Kentridge opened the door and welcomed her in. He was a short stout man, who waddled as walked. He had a mustache and small wire rimmed glasses that made his eyes appear even more beady than they were naturally. "Miss Crawley, to what do I owe this visit from you?" he inquired in a cold indifferent voice.

"I wished to talk to you about failure to answer your question last week in the advanced anatomy class?"

"Yes, you have something else you wish to say on the matter?"

Sybil mustered her confidence to confront Kentridge, who she knew was not fond of letting women into the field. "Well, I want to, I want to…" she started but hadn't quite rallied her wherewithal.

"Come on, speak up, speak up I'll have you not waste my time," he badgered her. Then he muttered, "How will you women, always soft and indecisive, survive in this tough profession?"

"I beg your pardon sir?" she asked taken aback by his comment and not sure she had heard him correctly.

"Women have little or no place in this field—especially those from privileged backgrounds who think they can buy their way into medicine."

Sybil was aghast at what he just said and was now furious. She didn't know how he found out about her background, but he had gone too far.

"Well, Dr. Kentridge I feigned not knowing the answer, because you did not ask the question properly." And she opened the large book to prove her point. "See here this is the correct question and answer. And rather than embarrass you in front of my peers, I chose to not respond—out of some misguided sense of respect for your fairness," she fired back.

Scrunching his nose and eyes, as he looked over the example on the page, "this is one version of the question and answer, but young lady it doesn't prove my question was wrong. Your performance as of late has been less than stellar, you had best beware I could easily fail you."

Sybil grew angrier at Kentridge's implacability. He wasn't going to give an inch to a woman—even though it was clear as day she was right. Then she said something that she hoped she wouldn't regret "Dr. Kentridge I tried to be fair to you and it is I who was then judged unfairly." Then she added with a ferocious spirit that even she didn't realize she had: "I will not be trampled on or treated badly. Try it and I'll raise such a furor you'll never teach here again!"

The doctor looked up, surprised at her tone and statement. "Well then, Miss Crawley, I think we'd best end our conversation," he said dismissively.

"Good day sir," she closed the book and walked out of his office seething with rage. She headed out to walk off her foul mood.

As she made her way through London's late afternoon crowds she replayed what had happened. How dare he, she thought. She presented proof he was wrong, yet he wouldn't concede. He could very well fail her for the course and delay her graduation. For all practical purposes, he controlled her future. But she was equally as determined to fight back on her own terms.

When she arrived home she changed clothes and dined with her aunt. Rosamund's conversation provided a wonderful distraction as she discussed the various events of the day, who was doing what to whom in her social circles, and where she was planning to go for summer holiday—if her brother would provide an addition to her monthly stipend. Sybil considered Rosamund's own circumstances that nevertheless hinged upon her brother's choices for her.

Later in the evening she sat in the library sipping a glass of madeira. She stared into the blazing hearth still trying to extinguish the last flames of her own anger incited by Kentridge's obstinate behavior. Why was it that men controlled the lives of women? Her father, though well meaning, had tried to make all the decisions for her, and if her parents had their way so would her future husband. Simply because he was the family patriarch, Robert deliberately restrained her—along with that of her sisters, mother, aunt, and even Anna—from becoming free thinking women who determined the course of their own lives.

And as she dwelled on this point further, she realized that even Branson had made a major decision on her behalf. He assumed he knew what was best for her future by ending their engagement. He simply assumed that she was too weak to contend with the familial and social disapproval of their unorthodox marriage. He had also on two occasions decided the degree of their intimacy, including once right here in the library two years ago. Perhaps the first time he was right, she was young and perhaps not ready. But last fall in Boulogne, she was very much her own woman. She knew her desires along with who and what she wanted. She was passionately in love with him and needed to know him fully. Yet, he perhaps unintentionally had treated her as if she were a precious porcelain doll. But she was much tougher than he acknowledged, and she was going to make sure he knew it.

It would no longer be the case that the men in her life made decisions for her. Sybil pledged that she would guide her own life from this day forward. And if they got in her way, the men of the world be damned!

* * *

Fired up to succeed, Sybil did prevail. She finished Dr. Kentridge's course and actually passed it, along with her other courses, with distinction. She had completed this phase of her medical training and would be part of the small ceremony graduating her cohort of medical students in mid-May—an event her entire family had planned to attend.

The day before the ceremony, Rosamund and Sybil went over to Grantham house for dinner shortly after her family arrived. Mr. Carson welcomed her with warm congratulations from the staff at Downton. He informed the two ladies that the family was in the drawing room.

Joining her mother and father before dinner were Violet, Mary, Matthew and Isobel—Sir Anthony and Edith would join them tomorrow. She was happy to see that the bandages had been removed from Matthew's eyes and that his vision was beginning to return. She was also pleased to see that Mary had finally committed to being by his side. Isobel was particularly proud of her protégé and the two talked about various happenings at the Cottage Hospital. Mr. Carson announced dinner.

The conversation toward the end of the meal veered toward Sybil's plans for the future. Robert inquired about her further training.

"As some of you know," Sybil began, "Dr. McNeil has asked me to be his assistant on a new investigation into antiseptics and wound treatment. Two weeks ago he informed me that we would be staying in London. So this is where I will be for another year at least."

"Oh that is wonderful news," Cora warmly congratulated her daughter. Sybil was also pleased that her mother had not tried her hand at matchmaking again, although she did say that Winnie Strallon would be coming with Sir Anthony tomorrow.

"When will it begin?" Mary inquired.

"We start in the fall, mid-September to be exact," Sybil answered, as Henry brought in dessert.

"Excellent news, we'll enjoy your company at Downton over the summer," Robert said.

"I'm not exactly going to be at Downton this summer, well at least for part of it."

"Oh no, just where will you be?" her father asked.

"Ireland, Dr. McNeil arranged for me to spend a month interning at a small hospital just outside of Belfast."

Spoonfuls of trifle stopped in mid-air. Even Mr. Carson raised a brow and cleared his throat "Ahem." Cutting through the thick silence Violet remarked, "And we all thought Boulogne was too close to the warzone, huh now Ireland?" She looked at Cora "What is it you Americans are fond of saying 'out of the frying pan and into the fire.' Well she's got a mind of her own that one."

"I expressly forbid it! Tensions in Ireland, especially the north, are most likely going to boil over into civil war and it's no place for my daughter," Robert firmly stated.

Sybil looked at her father, the rest of her family, and calmly informed them, "with all due respect, it is my life and I go where I choose. This is very important to me and to my career. I will be back at Downton in early July, where I look forward to spending time with all of you and assisting Dr. Cook at the Cottage Hospital."

And the family quietly finished the rest of their dessert.

* * *

The next day after a morning of important errands, Sybil went to meet her family at the school's small auditorium for the graduation ceremony; they were already there when she arrived. Before the afternoon's events commenced she quickly had a chance take her father aside and speak briefly with him.

"Papa, I did not mean to be impertinent last night. But I am in charge of my life and this is what I am choosing to do," she said with humility and respect in her delivery.

"Yes, my dear I realize that. Your mother and I are very proud of you today. We still have to get used to your doing things differently—Dr. Crawley," he smiled holding her hand on his arm and kissing her cheek.

"Thank you Papa, you are a fair minded person. Its one of the things I admire about you. And about doing things differently—I wanted to find out if you had a change of heart about Anna staying on?" she asked him.

"That again," Robert sighed. Then he thought for a moment, "Bates should be discharged in two weeks and he is surely going to be looking for work before he and Anna are married. I could find him something in one of the estate manager's office—you know he did a fine job working in the Commander General's office for the past two years. And there are those cottages on the western side of the estate that Matthew fixed up a couple of years ago perhaps they could live there. Now then, I promise I will talk to Mrs. Hughes about keeping Anna on in some capacity. Does that suffice for an answer?" he asked his daughter.

Sybil had lost the battle, but won the war in the end. She was ecstatic. "Thank you," as hugged her father. Just then Dr. McNeil came up and greeted Robert. They began to chat about various things. Sybil also noticed that Lottie and Louisa had come, she went to welcome them and introduced them to her mother. The ceremony was about to begin and Sybil went to take off her hat, hang her coat, and find her seat amongst her classmates.

Opening remarks were made. Then each woman was asked to come up and receive a certificate from the head of the school Dr. Smith-Barton. When Sybil's name was called she stood up walked forward to shake Dr. Smith-Barton's hand. It was announced she had completed her degree with the top honors the school bestows upon its graduates.

For the occasion, she wore a dark blue dress that fell mid calf and was loose around the waist, no more corset—she looked totally modern. When she turned around, she could see the expression of shock her family and friend's faces as they noticed the new haircut she had gotten earlier in the day. She waved at them, tilted her head and shook her new bob—Dr. Sybil Crawley had arrived.

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_*The full quote of the title is: "__Heaven has no rage like love to hatred turned, Nor hell a fury like a woman scorned," spoken by Zara in Act III, Scene VIII William Congreve The Mourning Bride (1697)_


	21. My Name Is

New developments for Sybil and Branson – more to come. Thanks for the reviews and comments. Enjoy!

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AGAINST ALL ODDS

Chapter 21 – My Name Is

Sybil's first week in Belfast had been a whirlwind initiation into the world of medical practice. She was thrown into the fray and had to rely on both her medical and nurses training to help the many patients she saw. She also met an entirely new staff of doctors and nurses.

Located near the university, the women's hospital was a small facility with only thirty beds, plus a small ward for women with difficult pregnancies. Its primary mission was to take care of outpatients who visited their dispensary and send doctors into the city's various neighborhoods to attend women in their homes. Affiliated with London's first hospital for women and the medical school where she finished her studies, the facility was entirely staffed by women doctors. Dr. McNeil knew the hospital's head, Dr. Baird, from Edinburgh, and he was delighted to recommend to her his prized pupil for an internship. For Sybil it was a rare opportunity to be in a medical environment that wasn't ruled by men.

Over the course of her stay she would rotate to get experience in the different services the hospital offered. She had yet to work with the small obstetrics ward, but would have the opportunity in the last week of her five-week stay. She began her first week by seeing patients in the dispensary. The women, and on occasion children, required a range of care. While the military hospital offered an invaluable exposure to the treatment of bodily injuries, nothing had prepared her to the ways that industrial work impacted the lives of women of all ages. Many suffered maladies caused by the abysmal conditions on their jobs—from difficulties in breathing caused by poor ventilation in the cotton mills to chemical burns from dyes in the tanneries. She noticed a number of mothers were now the sole providers of their families because their husbands had been killed or missing in the war. For the first time, she witnessed the devastating toll the four-year conflict had taken on the wives, mothers, and daughters left behind.

The hospital had three small rooms for visiting doctors off the kitchen in the rear. Sybil's room had a bed and stove that she used to heat the room and to make tea. Its windows overlooked a small garden where the cook grew vegetables and herbs. She had the option of cooking in her room or dining with the other staff in the nearby kitchen. The days had been long, so she was happy to sit down to a hearty meal with the other visiting doctors—a woman from Leeds and the other from Dublin. Both were friendly and Sybil enjoyed sharing stories about how they coped in the male dominated world of medicine.

While it would be a challenging month far from home, she had never felt freer. Somehow cutting her hair was an act of liberation, meaning she was no longer dependent on someone to help her with acts of grooming. Through her work she now earned a salary, enough to support herself, albeit modestly. Her parents had continued with their barrage of objections till she left England's shores. Thankfully Mary, Isobel, and Matthew defended her choice. She never meant to cause her parents worry or appear ungrateful for their generosity in giving her an upbringing without want. But she needed to make this journey both professionally, and more importantly (unbeknownst to them) personally.

* * *

During her second week Sybil made house calls with one of the staff doctors Emily Moore. Their appointments were spread across three neighborhoods, which meant that Sybil was able to get a sense of the lay of the city. It was good to be outside as the weather was warm, although on most days clouds filled the sky. She and Dr. Moore, one of the first woman doctors in Belfast, went from house to house—typically small two story row houses. Each doctor carried with her a bag filled with equipment and medicines that they dispensed to the patients; some required follow-up visits and others did not. Dr. Moore possessed a remarkable ability to talk with her patients to tease out the details of their ailments. Because they were both women, Sybil noticed the female patients seemed less fearful. This trust in turn facilitated acceptance of their medical advice. She was learning a lot.

On Thursday after they finished their rounds Sybil told Dr. Moore that she wanted to head off on her own and would see her the following day. Before she left London, Sybil had written to Anna asking her to find out Branson's address from Mr. Carson. Anna used the pretext that she and Mr. Bates wished to send him an invitation to their July wedding—which was in fact true. Sybil carried with her their letter to Branson. Once she found his home, her plan was to leave the letter and a note telling him that she wished to see him, and where to find her.

As she walked toward the neighborhoods in the south part of city, she asked various people to guide her in the direction of the address she had. As she moved through the various communities, she observed row upon row of houses that varied in size and width depending on the class status of the residents. It took about an hour, but she managed to find his street. Like the residents she had been visiting all week, the house was brick whose dark grey color came from the sooty air that blanketed the industrial city. It was located close to the city's periphery and she could glimpse a hint of the countryside at the end of the neighborhood several blocks away. Unlike some of the poorer parts of town that she and Dr. Moore had visited tending their patients, the area's streets and houses were well kept. Children played at the end of the block and a butcher shop sat on the corner. Its character was close to what she remembered Branson describing years ago as they sat in the car outside the gates of Downton.

* * *

Sybil rallied her courage and knocked on the door of #63.

"Hello miss can I help you?" said a young woman with a thick brogue. She had light brown hair and could not have been more than seventeen. She noticed Sybil's medical bag, "Oh good we've been waitin' for the doctor to come back for weeks now."

"I 'm not here to…" Sybil began telling the girl who she assumed to be Branson's sister. Surprised by the mistaken identity, she realized that perhaps she could help his mother, so she decided to play along. "Um, good afternoon, I'm here from the New Hospital for Women at the University."

"Please, come in. Yes, its my ma has been taken with sickness. We've ne'er had a lady doctor before."

Sybil walked into the house and Mary guided her to the front parlor, a bright room done up in pale green flowered wallpaper. As she looked around the room it had two chairs, a sofa, and a piano in the corner. She noticed a large photograph of a man, who must have been Branson's deceased father, hung above the piano surrounded by photographs of other family members. She knew this wasn't the house where Branson had grown up. With his salary in service he had been able to get them into a larger home in a better neighborhood closer to family and in a less congested part of the city.

She heard footsteps in the back and the sounds of playing children. "Just our little monsters." And then she yelled "Fiona, Maeve, Brian quiet down, doctor's visitin'." She heard the footsteps get louder and three little faces—twin girls and a little boy—popped into the doorway curious at who this new visitor might be. She observed that the twins had Branson's eyes and the same beguiling expression of wonder. "Go on this isn't a zoo," Mary shooed them off. The young woman turned back to her guest and said "Ah, dun' mind them haven't seen a lady doctor before either."

"Oh, my name is Sybil, Dr. Crawley," and she reached out her hand as she took off her glove.

"Mary Branson's my name. You're not from 'round here are ya?"

"No I'm from England, the North. Please to meet you. My older sister is named Mary."

"I'm the oldest 'round here. Well, oldest girl that is, save for my brother Tom whose out workin'. My mother's upstairs. She's been in bed these past six months or more, first the typhoid. Dr. Kincaid, says she may have a bad heart, but he hasn't been back here for a month now, so I'm right happy to see ya. You can leave your hat and coat down here."

* * *

Mary took Sybil upstairs to see her mother. The upper level had one room in the front and two small bedrooms in the back. She took her into one of the smaller rooms.

"Ma, it's the doctor come to see you," Mary introduced them, "And it's an English lady doctor no less."

"Good afternoon Mrs. Branson," Sybil greeted the woman as she looked around for a table upon which to place her bag. His mother was a small woman with the same light brown hair light of her daughter and piercing blue eyes of her son. She had a slight frame and had clearly lost a fair amount of weight due to her illness. "I am Dr. Crawley from the New Hospital for Women."

"Haven't heard a that one, but happy ta see you. Welcome to my home—trust my Mary was gracious to ya? Girl, go put on a pot o' water for the missus so she can take tea before she leaves," she said in voice that conveyed that while she was bedridden she still ran the household. "I reckon we haven't had a lady doctor 'round here, 'specially one so young. Guess we women are goin' in ta all kinds of new things nowadays."

"Yes we women doctors are a bit of a novelty-still, but they'll be more of us. Your daughter tells me you were very sick about six months ago, what has your doctor given you to take?"

"Mary show the doctor," and Mary picked up two bottles of various drafts. Sybil looked them over.

"Yes, thank you. If you don't mind I'd like to listen to your heart and lungs," she asked Mrs. Branson. Sybil retrieved her stethoscope from her bag. She sat on the edge of the bed and helped Mrs. Branson sit up. She listened to her heart and then from the back her lungs. She checked her pulse and felt the muscle tone on her arms and legs—she may be diminutive now, but clearly this had once been a sturdy woman. Sybil could tell from the power of her voice, that Branson's mother still had a lot of vitality in her. Then Sybil asked a series of questions about habits over the last few months, her diet, mobility, and mood.

Mrs. Branson told Sybil that with four young children about she hadn't the energy to do much. She depended upon her oldest daughter to help out. "Tis spring and I miss my garden out back—it's always pretty. Mary's so busy, she's no time for it. I'm sad it's gone all wild."

"My mother too loves her garden," Sybil replied as finished her physical examination.

With a heavy sigh she reached out to grab Sybil's arm and added "Me sons come back home after bein' in the army over in France. I thank god he wasn't killed or come back missin' a limb. He's a bright lad—he was in service, ya know a driver for lords and ladies. He came back home ta help me and the youngin's, but I want somethin' better for him than workin' in the shipyards."

"You're happy to have him back home?" Sybil asked hoping that Branson's return had given her some relief.

"Well, me and his late father sent him to school. I tell ya never in all my life have I seen someone eat and breathe books. He's a smart one, he's got'ta go out in to the world and do somethin'. Out'ta this place for sure, he can't stay. I need ta show him that I can get right and work again." Sybil could hear the pride in her voice as she spoke about her son.

"Well, I shall see what I can do," as she rummaged through her bag and pulled out a vial. "Take this in water once a day in the morning, it will give you more energy." Mary came back in the room. "Perfect you're here. You will both have to follow my directions. Mary I want you to help your mother get out of bed every day first for a half an hour, then an hour, making it longer every day. Eventually she is to walk around upstairs, as much as she can. Let her get some fresh air by a window if you can. Then she should try going downstairs in a couple of weeks. You'll have to get your mother moving again—this will help her heart to heal which may have been damaged from the high fever of the typhoid. But it is reparable if you follow this regime."

"Yes, Dr. Crawley," Mary said grateful for the positive news.

"Yes, doctor thank ya, you're the first one that checked all of me. Maybe its 'cause you too are a woman, ya know what ta look for. But I thank ya fur takin' the time," she smiled for the first time since Sybil had come into the room. She noticed how her lips turned up in the corner just like her son's smile—the one she'd seen so many times and sorely missed.

"You're welcome, I will try to stop by again next week to see how you are coming along if you don't mind."

"Not'at all. And please stay for tea with Mary, maybe next time I'll be joinin' ya."

"I'll count on that Mrs. Branson," Sybil replied shaking her hand. She was glad to see that her diagnosis had lifted his mother's spirits. She left the room and went back downstairs with Mary.

* * *

"You'll stay for tea then?" Mary asked. "I'm sure you're a busy doctor and all, but I don't get to see many folks now that I'm mostly home with ma and the little ones."

Sybil considered the likelihood of meeting Branson, especially since her intent was to leave the letter and not to make a house call. She would take a chance as Mary had been welcoming, "Um, of course I'd be delighted."

"Oh good, I'll be right back." And Mary went to the kitchen to make the tea. While she waited Sybil looked about the room. She took in the photograph on the wall. It must be his father she thought, something about the way the man held his head that reminded her of Branson.

She heard a little voice, "Why do you look at papa?" Brian asked her from the hallway.

"He has a very fine face," she responded.

"Looks like me," he said as he came closer and the two girls followed, "what d'ya got in that big bag."

"All sorts of medical equipment," she told the curious little boy, she remembered from Branson he would be around seven, the twins were a year younger.

"Like what?"

And she opened it and pulled out her stethoscope, "Like this. Do you know what it does?"

"No, can you show me?" he said and the twins nodded their heads.

"Now come here," and she put the ends in his ears. "Hold this to your chest. You all have to be very quiet" as the two girls came on either side of Sybil.

"What's that thumpin' sound?" he asked in awe.

"Its your heartbeat. You are listening to it pump the blood in and out."

"Real blood?" he asked looking up at her excited by the prospect.

"Yes, young man—real blood!" as she tweaked his chin and smiled back.

Mary returned "Ay you three best be gettin' in the back. I left a biscuit for each of ya—Brian don't you be eatin' the twin's biscuits," she told them.

"Thank you missus doctor," they said in unison as the three dashed in the back to the kitchen.

Mary sat the tray down that contained a pot, two cups and a plate of biscuits, "Sorry Dr. Crawley hope they weren't to much of a bother."

"No they're very adorable."

"Oh ho, I should leave 'em wid ya for an afternoon—you'll 'ave your fill. But mostly they're good, not too much trouble."

As both young women sat facing one another in the two chairs, Mary poured the tea and handed the cup to her guest.

"Your mother said you've been looking after the children?"

"Don't much work anymore since she's been sick. I mostly take care of the house, the cookin', cleanin' and all. I do some sewing piecework when I can. My brother Kevin who's thirteen helps my uncle with his farm not too far from here. And my oldest brother Tom works in the shipyards; he too helps my uncle on the weekends. Since papa died we've all had to help out more. I had to leave school and go to work."

"Do you miss school?" she asked Mary, who seemed to be taller than her mother and perhaps favored her father in that regard.

"I do, miss mostly the learnin'. I saw how Tom took to it and wanted to follow what he did. I read his books when I can. Though its mostly beyond me 'specially since I haven't see much o' tha world. I sometimes think I could be a ship's captain or explorer like those lads went ta north-pole. Do ya think women can do those things?" she said with a passion that suggested she'd spent a lot of time thinking about life beyond this tight-knit community. "Have ya traveled you being a lady doctor from England and all?"

"No I've not travelled much. I grew up in a very tiny village, so I didn't see much beyond that world. Though, I received my medical training in London, which was big and busy compared to my small town. I went to France last year, but have yet to see more," Sybil told her. She found kinship with Mary and confessed, "I too dream of other places. I like to hear what other people say about the far away places that they come from. I feel like I travel the world through them. I feel like I'd already been to Ireland. Your br…" She stopped. Indeed Branson had told her about the hilly landscape around the city that he remembered from visiting his uncle and aunt's farm.

The two women were almost finished their tea when they both heard CRASH—what sounded like something large and glass shattering into a million pieces. "Arghh, those three. See what I told ya. I'll be right back."

After Mary left to go check in the kitchen, she heard the front door open and close; next the sound of footsteps going up the stairs. "Ma, I'm back home. How are you today?" trailed off in a familiar voice. It was Branson. She put down her cup and went for her coat, hat, and bag. She hoped he would stay upstairs long enough for her to slip out the door. She pulled Anna's envelope and her note out of her pocket, and propped it up on the tray with the teapot.

Mary was coming out of the back carrying Fiona who was crying with a cut on her hand. She yelled, "Tom, come downstairs the lady doctor seeing Ma is still here, stop in to meet her."

In a panic Sybil dashed out of the parlor, just as Branson had turned from coming down the stairs. They froze—as if each had seen a ghost.

She blushed and stuttered, "T-Tom, I came to…"

"Sybil, what on earth are you doing here?" he said in disbelief, his mouth turning up into a smile.

"You two know each other?" Mary asked confused by their familiarity.

But Mary's question fell on deaf ears as the two lovers crossed paths once again.


	22. Breaking the Rules

_Just couldn't leave that scene last hanging by a thread…Enjoy! (thanks for the reviews and comments, more to come.)_

* * *

AGAINST ALL ODDS

Chapter 22 – Breaking the Rules

A piercing "Aahhhh" snapped the two lovers out of their trance as Fiona screeched and her hand began to throb.

"What's all tha racket down there Mary, Tom?" came Mrs. Branson's voice from upstairs.

"I'll take Fiona, you best take care of whatever happened back there before the other two get into more trouble," Branson told his sister as he moved past Sybil to take his screaming little sister. "Shh, Shh you're gonna be fine."

"It's alright Mama, Fiona just fell down," Mary called out looking up the stairwell to where her mother was.

"Let me take a look at that hand," Sybil said viewing the cut across Fiona's palm.

Branson carried the child into the parlor and Sybil followed, putting her coat and hat back down. She opened her bag and pulled out a bottle and bandages.

He sat down in one of the chairs with Fiona on his lap, trying to keep her calm, but she squirmed, "Ahhhh, wahhhh."

Sybil had her stethoscope and put it in Fiona's ears. She had Branson hold the end to her chest. "You want to know what Brian heard this afternoon? Then you'll have to be very quiet," she said in an almost whisper. The little girl stopped crying as she listened to her heartbeat. "You're a brave little girl, just like your big brother here, and this won't hurt at all," Sybil kneeled down and with a piece of cotton she swabbed iodine on the cut. Too distracted to pay attention to the sting Fiona winced but didn't cry. Next Sybil picked up a bandage, and proceeded to carefully wrap the little hand. Branson held onto his sister as he watched Sybil perform her tasks.

"Now that wasn't too bad was it?" Sybil looked at her little patient who ignored the question and was now trying to put the stethoscope's diaphragm on her big brother's chest.

He kissed Fiona on the side of the head, "All done then. The doctor here did a fine job fixin' your hand. What do you say to her?"

"Tank ya missus doctor," the little girl replied still fascinated by the end of the stethoscope.

"Thank you Sybil, and for looking in on my mother." Branson said gently to her. Made uneasy by their close proximity, Sybil quickly stood back up.

Just then Mary came in with the other two children. "All right Fiona looks like the doctor has patched you up too. Sorry Dr. Crawley seems like ya makin' the rounds through all o' us that live here," as she took the little girl from her brother.

"Tis no bother, its my job," Sybil told her, trying to avoid looking at Branson—perhaps afraid to see in his eyes that he did not love her anymore.

"Now how is it you two know each other?" Mary prodded them both. Each looked away, too embarrassed to explain.

"It's a very long story, one that I'll tell you later," he said to Mary as she left the room with the children in tow. "Sybil, how d'you find me?" he began—taking in her presence, noticing how she'd changed.

"I came to give you a letter from Anna and Mrs. Bates," Sybil said as she retrieved the letter from the tray and handed it to Branson, avoiding physical contact of any sort. Although she noticed by the fit of his brown pants and white shirt that he had put back on the weight he'd lost in November and his arms seemed more muscular.

"What, I don't understand?" he asked as he opened the letter.

"Its an invitation to their wedding and a note from me asking to see you," she replied, still avoiding eye contact as she turned her back to repack her medical bag. "I've stayed too long, I didn't mean to intrude," she went to retrieve her coat.

"Wait! Sybil please don't go yet, since you're already here," he said standing up to stop her.

"I only came to drop off the letter, not to stay, but your sister thought I was the doctor to see your mother, so I went along, I only wanted to help her, I think she will improve, her heart's weak, she needs to get active, but she should improve, then Mary asked me to stay for tea, something glass broke, you came in…" Sybil told him in a nervous enfilade of sentences, not sure of his reaction.

"You came all the way to Belfast to give me this letter?" Branson asked, still surprised that she had made the journey.

She turned back around to face him, but looked down. "Yes, in part. I have an internship for the month at the New Hospital for Women near the University. Dr. McNeil arranged it for me." She finally looked at him "Tom, I know you wrote the letter to end our engagement, because you wanted to protect me. But we left many things unfinished, we have so much to talk about. I couldn't go on any longer, I had to see you again."

They stared intently—not sure what to say or do next. But she knew right away he was still in love with her.

He took in a deep breath. "It's getting late, I'll walk you back to where you're staying. You shouldn't go alone—there's been trouble about," he said as he took her coat and helped her put it on. "We can talk on the way," he added. She could feel the gentle tickle of his breath on her neck—she momentarily closed her eyes at the slightest hint of physical contact.

Mary came to the front of the house, "Finally got them all calm again. Ah you'll be leavin' then, thanks for seeing my mum and takin' care of Fiona. Do come back and we can finish our tea? Since you two seem ta be friends—won't that be nice Tom?"

"Um, yes—come back for tea, please" he added, recognizing Mary had no clue of the awkwardness of their situation. "It's getting late and I'm going to walk Dr. Crawley home."

"Thank you Mary, I would like to finish our talk and I do need to check in on your mother, perhaps next week. Fiona's hand should be fine, the cut wasn't deep, just long; I've left additional bandages on the table in the parlor, change it again tomorrow." And Sybil reached out to shake the young woman's hand.

Carrying the medical bag for Sybil, Branson grabbed his jacket, opened the door, and they walked out into the early summer evening.

* * *

"Your shorter hair, it somehow fits your spirit," he said not sure where to start.

"Well cutting it was a part of making changes and adjustments in my life now that I am done with my training and on my own," she told him.

"Yes, congratulations on finishing school, I'm sure you were at the top of your class. I was impressed with how you calmed Fiona and quickly took care of her cut. To no one's surprise you're a very good physician—Dr. Crawley, I guess I can call you that now."

"Oh I still have so much to learn. The hospital where I have the internship is staffed by women, really exceptional doctors, I'm lucky to be amongst them," she replied. "It was you after all who made me realize if I took the research post I didn't have to give up my dream of helping women. I owe you so much. Thank you for believing in me," she told him as they turned a corner.

"Sybil it's easy. You owe me nothing, as I've said you are if anything—determined."

"Ask my parents about that one, they were none to keen on my coming here. They seem to think I'm in great danger."

"Well the tensions between the two sides are getting uglier because of this year's coming elections, so you'd best be careful in certain neighborhoods. We don't quite know what's going to happen—maybe independence from the Britain or maybe not. It all swirls around me, but right now I'm just trying to keep my family afloat."

"Yes, your mother told me you've been working in the shipyards?"

"Not a lot of work 'round here as lads start to trickle back home from the war. My cousin got me a position as an ironworker, I was lucky to get a spot since production on warships has slowed, which I guess is a good sign the war is winding down. However, not so great for workin' folks 'round here; if the economy's going to bottom out then it's the poor who are going to suffer the most."

"How do you find the work?" she asked.

"It's physical, back breaking most days, and sometimes dangerous with large steel plates hovering overhead. But I'm happy to be working. I suppose in its own way it keeps my mind from drifting back to memories of the war. I also help my uncle on the farm. My brother goes most days, and I go when I can. Being outside in the fields and doing things with my hands has been good for me."

This would explain why his arms and overall physique seemed more muscular. She liked it that the layers of bulky uniforms no longer hid his exquisitely toned body.

"I'm glad to hear that you are getting through the emotional distress of the war. It can't be easy. I've seen what it's done to Matthew, whose eyesight is thankfully almost back, and even my father's mood, and he didn't even see battle this time. Who knew that there'd be so much to take care of in the aftermath?"

Walking and talking away, Sybil and Branson continued to wind through the streets and back to the area of the city where the hospital was located. Close to her destination, they came across a small park that at this hour was empty. As the daylight slowly began to fade in the warm mid-June evening they walked in and sat on a bench near a grove of trees.

"This whole visit came about because you had something you wanted to say about calling off our engagement?" he started.

"Yes, I do. Where to begin…Tom, I know you wanted to protect me from the challenges we will face if we marry, but I am much stronger than you think. And to put it bluntly I don't think I had a say in ending our engagement," she said.

"Sybil the world can be unforgiving and we are from two very different places. You now see the life I come from. We're not living in squalor mind you, but we work hard to stay alive. Perhaps the war hardened me toward these realities, but no matter how much I love you I can't ask you to give up the life you have."

"But you see—it's _my_ life to give up, mine to chose what I do and whom I'm with?"

"How do you think your parents will feel about your choices—about us, about me? I'm certainly not Dr. McNeil, your mother's choice for your husband. And these aren't the hands of some son of nobility. I'm sweaty and grimy, I work in a shipyard and on a farm for god's sake!"

"It's good honest work. Anyway, my father thinks you have great promise, he's told me as much on several occasions. And since when do you care about what anyone thinks?"

"I care when in concerns your well-being."

"But don't you understand your letting them guide our lives. We can make our life what we want it to be!" Sybil told him with the tone in her voice becoming more emphatic.

Branson looked down and then said, "this isn't some response on a test there are no easy answers here."

"I know this isn't a test. It's about my right to choose what I want in life. And you chose for me—and quite frankly I resent that, about as much as I do when my mother or father try to determine where my life is heading. I'm on my own now and make my own way in this world. I've seen things that most men, let alone women, haven't any clue about," she reminded him.

"You can't imagine what it will be like if we marry—are you ready for the looks you'll get from those in my world or to be cut off from your family, friends? Think about where we are right now—because of our different religions, not that we care, but others will place us on opposing sides of what could be a civil war," he asked her.

Then Sybil said confronting him "Tom, I'm not a porcelain doll that needs protecting and has to be placed high up on a shelf because you're afraid I might break. My desire for you, to know you intimately in every way—hasn't changed. But you seem to think I'm too fragile to be loved. I'm not precious. What I've done with my life thus far should tell you I'm a lot tougher than that!"

Branson stood up and walked over near a tree clearly agitated by the course their conversation was taking. He placed his forearm on the tree and leaned his head against it. Sybil followed him and pleaded, "I know what I want and its you, it's only ever been you. God, Tom Branson you can be stubborn!"

Frustrated, he glanced away, then back at her and uttered in a biting tone "Sybil, stop it," he motioned his arms up and down. "Stop behaving like a spoiled rich girl who always gets her way and what she wants!"

His accusation ricocheted through every fiber of Sybil's being and before she knew it her anger had gotten the best of her. "I'm a what!" she said as her hand rotated up to strike him—perhaps to shock him out his misperceptions.

But he was too quick and stopped her swing in mid-air. He firmly grasped her arm. Impassioned by her outburst, he was breathing heavily, so was she as they gazed intensely at each other.

Ahold of her arm, Branson suddenly pushed her against the tree, grabbed her waist with his other hand, and drew her hungrily into a kiss. Their excitement erupted into passion as Sybil's hands went around his neck and inside his collar needing to make contact with his skin. Each explored the other's mouth desiring to taste the physicality of love that had been denied for two months or more. The closeness of their bodies felt electric as she could feel his desire for her and she explored the toned breadth of his shoulders.

They finally pulled apart to catch their breath. They looked down for a moment—utterly surprised at what just happened. Branson confessed, "I didn't mean to do that." Then he said earnestly, "God, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to say that to you—I just wanted to push you away from me and from here."

"My love, I am sorry too. I don't know why I tried to hurt you. I think needed to get some kind of lucid response from you. I just didn't expect one so passionate," she smiled almost in tears.

"How I've wanted you, missed you," he embraced her, caressing her back and kissing her neck.

"I think I love you more now than ever. When I saw you in your family's home, it took everything not to run into your arms," she told him.

"I've tried to convince myself I could live without you, but these past few months have been hell." He then looked into her eyes, "When I saw you today at home—with my mother, my brother and sisters I realized that I can no more live without you than I can live without breathing."

He kissed her gently this time, longingly.

Delirious from their revelation, they went back and sat down on the bench.

"I'm also sorry for sending that letter," he said sincerely. "I didn't mean to dictate your choices. I know through your dogged determination you've taken on more than most. I should've never underestimated your strength. Thank you for not giving up on us. Will you forgive me?" he asked as he held her hands.

"Yes of course. I realized it was only because you want, as you always have, the best for me and that is why you pushed me away. But its no use, we two are one, I'll always be with you."

"What are we going to do? We're a fine pair, mismatched in every way imaginable," he laughed.

She had so missed hearing that laugh. "We are going to make our own life together, and not care a fig about what anyone else thinks—Tom Branson will you marry me?" she asked placing her hand on his cheek.

"Ay, I've never received a marriage proposal!" he said raising a brow. "But I suppose it's a good way to start breaking the bloody rules and charge ahead. Yes, Sybil Crawley, I'll marry you," he replied as he took her hand and brought it to his lips. "My dearest friend, I never want to spend another day without you by my side."

And she leaned in and kissed him.

The reunited lovers made their way to the hospital walking arm-in-arm the rest of the way as the crowds on the streets thinned out. It was twilight when Sybil opened the gate leading to the rear entrance. "What an evening we've had."

"Indeed, my love," Branson said as he handed her the medical bag. "But I couldn't imagine a better ending. I'll come by tomorrow after I finish my shift."

"Please, do," she said. "Until tomorrow," as they sweetly kissed each other good night.

Sybil's anxiety about the forces that were pulling them apart had finally subsided. She felt that the walls of rank and duty that had separated them for so many years had finally tumbled. This time she watched Branson leave knowing that tomorrow he would return.

* * *

Three days later she arrived again on Branson's street. And as promised, the past two evenings he came to see her at the hospital. He invited her back to his mother's house for tea on Sunday afternoon. For the reintroduction, she decided to wear a simple flowered dress, something demure that said "girl from Yorkshire," rather than "doctor from London." She had picked up a box of chocolates for Mary and Mrs. Branson. This time she would meet his family as a future member and she wasn't yet sure how they would react when they announced the news of their forthcoming marriage. But as he had said on Thursday—its now or never—she again knocked on the door of #63.

This time Branson answered. "Come in," and he kissed her on the cheek. "Mary's still in the kitchen. Let me take your coat and hat." And they walked into the parlor. He looked her over, "Lovely as always." They kissed again before his sister appeared. "Don't be nervous, it'll be fine," he reassured her sensing her mood.

The small table had been set for tea and she heard Mary coming to the front of the house, "So I heard a knock. Now I'll find out who the surprise guest is. Oh, Dr. Crawley you are back. You're the person here for tea?"

"Mary good to see you again. And please its Sybil," as she handed Mary the chocolates. "You mean Tom didn't tell you I was coming?" she said wondering why the mystery.

"Thank you, the twins 'll love the chocolate. Alright big brother, what's the story with you two?"

"You did invite Dr. Crawley back for tea didn't you? Here she is." Branson said ribbing his sister.

"We'll tell you, but first we need to talk to mama, hold the hot water."

Branson took Sybil by the hand and went up the stairs.

"Mama, I have Dr. Crawley with me," he told her as they entered the room. She was sitting in a chair near the window looking out onto her garden. Her once pallid skin had become rosier.

"Doctor, back so soon. I 'preciate all the attention. As ya can see am feelin' a tad better. From here I can see some of my flowers have come up."

"Sybil's here because we have something to tell you," he took a deep breath. "I've asked Sybil to marry me. Well really she's asked me to marry her. And I've said 'yes.'"

"She's asked ya to marry her? But ya just met the good doctor on Thursday. Grant it she's a pretty little thing."

"We've known each other for four years now, and we've been engaged since November."

"But ya were over'n France then?"

"You might say the courtship's been a bit complicated. I guess we're here to ask for your blessing," he said holding Sybil's hand firmly.

"You want ta marry a doctor, that's a fine choice. Well then young lady, I don't even know where you're from, whose your family?"

"I grew up in Yorkshire, my family the Crawley's are…" and Sybil wasn't quite sure how to explain it.

"Sybil's the daughter of the gentleman I worked for at Downton Abbey—the Earl of Grantham. That's how we met, I was her family's chauffeur," Branson finished her sentence.

"The daughter of an Earl. Why would a rich English lady, a protestant I assume, want with marryin' my son?"

Sybil looked a Branson—both smiled. "Mrs. Branson its because I love him, he's changed my life. I want to have his children and spend my life with him."

Still unsure Mrs. Branson asked "my son hasn't gotten ya in ta' some kind 'o trouble has he?"

He assured her that "No, Mama she's not in trouble. She makes me happy and I can't imagine life without her—believe me I've tried."

His mother was utterly perplexed by the situation and said "Well then." They both realized this would take time for her to accept their unlikely alliance. "We're going to have tea with Mary, we can talk about this later." And he went over to kiss her on the forehead.

"Good day Mrs. Branson, I'll stop by later in the week to check on your progress," Sybil said as she left the room.

Disappointed by his mother's lukewarm reception, the two sat down on the parlor sofa. The twins had joined Mary and were each nibbling on a chocolate. As she poured the tea Mary asked "We'll I'm tired of waiting—what's going on here?"

Branson said outright, "Sybil and I are getting married."

"That's quick for three days, but ya must of known each other for some time now," Mary said. "Well now, I'm happy for the two of you. Finally, there's someone who makes this big lug happy. Hooray!" she came over to kiss her brother, Maeve followed on her heels to also hug him.

"Jyay!" Fiona said mimicking her big sister and ran over to give Sybil a big chocolaty kiss.

Sybil and Branson had come to terms with the fact that being together wasn't going to be easy—there were many people and circumstances against their marrying. But at least for now Branson's family happily met his future—her family's response would be tested soon enough.


	23. Only We Two are One

_Branson is chivalrous no more.* WARNING: This gets tastefully steamy so may not be for all. Reviews, comments always appreciated. Enjoy!_

* * *

AGAINST ALL ODDS

Chapter 23 – Only We Two are One

It was a warm summer morning with soft patches of clouds drifting across the sky. Sybil carried a small bag and basket as she made her way to the center Belfast. She wore a light green shift and comfortable shoes, her hat kept the summer sun from her eyes. It was half past 8 o'clock when she arrived at the busy corner. While waiting for Branson, she reflected upon all that had happened in the last two weeks since their reconciliation.

For one, they had seen each other everyday—a first for them. The two lovers were finally unencumbered by the interference of the war, family, work, or social duty. In the evenings he usually came to the hospital after his workday was finished. With so much to share, they would either go for a walk or sit in the garden behind the hospital. On two occasions, Mrs. Kerr, the hospital's cook, invited Branson to join them for dinner once she heard that the two were going to be married. The other interning doctors and the staff were delighted to meet him. And he had enjoyed getting to know those with whom Sybil was spending her days.

Sybil had also visited his family. The Sunday following the tea, Mary made dinner for everyone, although his mother did not join. His brothers and sisters all seemed to take to the lady doctor their oldest brother brought home from England. The boys especially enjoyed her company and bombarded her with questions about blood and gore. Mary and Branson tried to put an end to it, but she didn't mind answering—she liked to see their little noses turn up. She had also gotten to know his sister Mary better. She was clear-headed, hard working, and had notions for what she wanted to do with her life beyond caretaking and eventually having babies. Mary liked the fact that Sybil had been a nurse, work that she found appealing. And in turn Sybil thought she could help her in some way. It was sort of like finding a bookend younger sibling to her oldest sister Mary.

She had made two additional visits to check on Mrs. Branson's progress whose mobility was incrementally improving. His mother had managed to walk to the other rooms upstairs without too much difficulty. She did not say any more about their engagement, but Sybil got the sense his mother was sizing her up as a suitable match for her beloved son. She did not mind the scrutiny. After all she imagined from his mother's perspective, she had mysteriously dropped into her son's life out of nowhere (or rather the otherworld of English aristocracy), as such she had no inkling who this woman was that he had committed to marrying.

Best of all she liked the rhythm their relationship was developing—now finally given the space to breathe. Each had become a part of the other's daily routine. And in so doing she discovered aspects about him that only this kind of everyday intimacy could reveal. She'd never noticed, for instance, his tendency to lose things or at least track of them. Around the house, Mary apparently did not trust him with anything important or "its sure to go missin'." She loved how his eyes would roll up into his head when he laughed very hard. She also found out from Mary that he could dance, but Branson feigned knowing any steps claiming he didn't want to embarrass himself. All of these little things endeared him to her even more.

She had managed to get the Saturday free by taking on someone's evening shift. Branson's uncle and aunt would be spending time with their son, whose wife was having their first child—so he agreed to look after the farm on the weekend and take care of a few things around the property; his brother Kevin would come for the week. Branson had invited her to join him. With no family to whom she would have to explain her whereabouts, she gladly accepted. Therefore, they had two whole days together in the country. In her bag she carried clothes and in the basket was a picnic lunch that Mrs. Kerr insisted she take.

Branson caught up with her. "Good morning my love," he said grinning warmly, "Up for our adventure?"

"Good morning, I'm ready," she glowed. She took his arm and they caught a trolley heading to the outskirts of the city. From there they would walk another a mile and a half to the farm.

* * *

The road was lined with alternating fields of flax, barley, and hay. They eventually came to a compound of three stone buildings: a large house, an extension, and a barn. Branson had a key to unlock the front door and they walked in. They dropped off their bags in the main room downstairs and took the basket into the kitchen. Branson went upstairs and changed into work clothes. His uncle wanted him to mend some fences and make sure the farm's two workers looked after the sheep, pigs, and chickens.

Sybil joined Branson as he went down to the pen where the sheep were kept. He gave her a tour of the farmstead and its history. It was the family home of his father who had when the crops failed left to find work in Belfast many years ago. His uncle stayed on and eventually made the farm profitable again. He was very proud of how his family had managed to hold on to the small property through various political upheavals and natural disasters. Seeing him in this context she became aware of how much of his sense of justice and fairness was shaped by his family's struggles to keep this farm.

While he worked on the fence, Sybil went for a walk. She wandered into one of the fields and ambled up a hill to get a panoramic view of the valley and other farms. The flax was in bloom and the slight breeze made the tall stalks of blue dance around her. The farmland was spectacular as far as she could see with rolling hills and swathes of green parceled into a patchwork of plots. A cluster of trees surrounded a small pond on the south end of the property. She breathed in the smell of wet earth and hay—its delightful sweetness was in stark contrast to the caustic smoky air of the city. And far off she could see Branson hard at work on the other side of the farm. She understood why being here had been therapeutic for him after life on the battlefields.

Sybil had never felt so free to be her own person. The past few weeks determining where she went, what she did, and whom she was with had given her a new perspective on the world. Branson had taught her so much, but she also became aware that he too had faults and shortcomings, and sometimes he too needed her support and patience. Through that epiphany she gained a greater understanding of what their future together might portend. There would be some things she could control, others that she could not change, and more still that would be a matter of fate. But she had gained a greater awareness of her needs and desires. All of these things are what made life exciting and fulfilling.

* * *

Branson and Sybil met back at the house in the early afternoon. Sybil retrieved the lunch basket and Branson grabbed some blankets for their picnic.

They found a clearing near the pond. Branson spread the blankets underneath a large tree that gave them some shade from the afternoon sun. Sybil began to unpack the lunch Mrs. Kerr had prepared. She had made various sandwiches and included a jar of her special pickled vegetables. At the bottom Sybil found a tin with apple cake and she had slipped in a small bottle of ale. After working on the fence, on top of the long walk, Branson ravaged the lunch.

"Ahh, that was a right perfect lunch—I'll have to thank Mrs. Kerr personally, she must like you a lot," he said reclining on his arms with his legs crossed.

"No I think she's keen on you. On my way out she insisted I take the basket 'to feed your strappin' lad' she told me, I had no idea what was in it," Sybil said finishing a piece of cake as she sat under the cool shade of the trees.

"She should make my lunch everyday, but then I'd have to fight off the others who'd want to steal it."

"Things get that rowdy down at the yards?"

"Sometimes. If the strike happens things could get more than rowdy. There's been union talk about protesting the pay cuts in the fall. If you'll join the strike falls according to whether you're for home rule or not. I've been going to the meetings and doing what I can to rally support, as I think we all need to stick together. But I'm not sure I'll be around to see what happens."

"What do you mean?"

"Well yesterday when I got home from seeing you, Mary handed me a letter. It was from Col. Cosgrove, the officer in charge of my battalion's motorpool—the one who wants to start a motorcar company. We were discharged the same month. He's raised money and begun to hire. He wants me to come to London for an interview in the next month."

"Eeee, that's the best news," she exclaimed, as she moved over and straddled his lap. "Is it what you want?"

"Well if it pays better than what I'm doing now, it's what I want. Also seeing what's been going on down the yards—the workers at the mercy of the owners, I hope that being a part of the start of a new company might mean I can help make sure workers are treated fairly and paid decent wages."

"Then I want it for you too." She kissed him ferociously forcing him onto his back.

"My dearest friend, you taste like…um apples," he said with a grin.

"You mean round and rosy, with sweet flesh and utterly tempting?" she toyed unbuttoning the top of his shirt and swirling her fingers on his chest.

He sat up and she rolled off, "Eve, are you trying to seduce me? Won't work—at least right now—hot as the hades you might say. How 'bout swim Dr. Crawley?"

"Swim? But I didn't bring a bathing suit?"

"You got your skin haven't ya?" he asked as he stood up. He finished what Sybil started by unbuttoning his shirt. "I loved swimming here as a boy—come on it'll be fun," he said offering his hand to pull her up. "Oh you can't be shy, there's no one around for miles. Alright then, how about a little wager between the sexes—bet I can beat you 'cross the pond."

Sybil thought about it, "and the stakes?"

"I'll determine those when I beat you," he raised a brow and smiled.

"You're on! Be prepared to lose more than your dignity when I win!"

In less than a minute Branson had shed his work clothes. From the hard physical labor in the yards and on the farm, Sybil observed his body was perfectly sculpted—she was in awe of the beauty of his chest and thighs. He did a running leap for the water and dove in. "Ahhhhh, it's amazing!" he yelled and splashed about.

Sybil took her time as she had far more layers to peel off. "Afraid I might win Lady Sybil!" he teased her as he watched her slowly disrobe. Finally she was completely nude. His gaze was transfixed her body was stunning in the afternoon light.

She returned the taunt, "Be prepared to lose Belfast boy." And she gradually waded in then gracefully dove into the warm water.

She swam toward him. "So are you ready?" she asked. He nodded and the two raced to the other side of the pond. It took about two minutes to get to there. He had a pretty good stroke, but she kicked her way to reach the other end just ahead of him. "Yayy!" she screamed in victory. "Tom Branson you owe me."

"Owe you what?" he asked as he began to swim back to the middle of the pond.

"Oh, I'll think of something you can't refuse me," she glided up to him and put her arms around his shoulders as she treaded water.

"I just bet you will," he said in a low voice. Branson drew her toward him, as he pushed the wet hair from her eyes. She looked at the scar where the bullet had entered his shoulder and kissed it. She was happy that he seemed to have cast off the melancholy from those horrific months in the trenches. Their slippery bodies touched as he drew her lips to softly meet his.

"Is there anything better'n the feelin' of floating?" he yelled out.

He dove under. The two frolicked for a while and then headed toward the shore.

Branson grabbed one of the blankets and dried off. "Come her my love," he beckoned. And he wrapped it and his arms around Sybil to warm her. He stood behind her and began to dry her off.

He bent down to dry her legs and deliberately worked up to her thighs. He stood up and whispered, "I've never seen anything so beautiful than when you walked into the water."

He draped the soft blanket over her shoulders and methodically worked circles on her back. Next his hands worked over her shoulders and arms. The blanket still wrapped around her body he moved to her sides. Both hands slowly came up to massage her breasts with the cloth. Sybil closed her eyes and let out a small gasp. She leaned into his body, her head falling back on his shoulder. One hand worked its way down to dry her stomach. Emerging from under the blanket his hand moved between her legs to find her wetness.

"Yes…"she moaned as one hand massaged her breast and the other continued between her legs.

"This makes you happy?" he softly said into her ear and kissed her neck.

"Mmmm, yes. It does. Tom, don't stop…" she reached her arm to entwine with his. "Don't…stop!" She suddenly tensed with pleasure and relaxed into his arms. Behind her, she felt the intensity of his growing desire to make love to her. She had long wanted this level of intimacy—but circumstances had always prevented their union. She turned around to face him as the blanket fell to the ground and his arms encircled her waist.

"Here…now," she said softly.

"Are you sure?" he asked as he gazed lovingly into her eyes and he knew she was ready.

"Yes, my love," she whispered, then added sultrily, "Remember you can't refuse me."

Branson picked her up and laid her down onto the remaining blanket. He moved between her legs, kissed her tenderly, and gradually entered her. She let out a soft cry and he stopped for a moment. The two lovers relaxed—united at last. She gazed up at the verdant canopy of the tree's branches. He slowly began to move his hips. She marveled at the beautiful dappled light that fell between the leaves; the tinge of pain subsided as her pleasure increased. He lightly stroked her outer thigh as she learned the capacity of her own desire. Her arms massaged his damp muscular back. The hints of sky merged with the blue of his eyes as he kissed her passionately. Moving vigorously in unison, she reached the rapturous peak of her ecstasy. She kissed then gently bit down on his shoulder. His body shuddered and he cried out as he too reached climax. Breathing heavily, they stayed in an embrace for almost a minute, they listened to the wind rustle the leaves above.

Branson slowly rolled onto his side. He propped up his head and caressed her stomach. She interlaced her fingers with his. Sybil had never felt so deeply loved and protected.

* * *

They eventually made it back to the house in the late afternoon. Branson changed out of his work clothes while Sybil sat in a chair reading a novel she had brought with her. Later on they went to the kitchen to make supper. In a cupboard Branson found in a covered dish with part of a ham, a bowl of bacon and cabbage, and a loaf of bread his aunt had left for him. They sat at the large wooden table and feasted on his aunt's cooking. While Branson put away the food, Sybil cleaned the dishes.

Afterwards he built a fire in the main room and went upstairs for a moment. Sybil came out and sat down on the floor in front of one of the chairs. The room was large with a sofa, chairs and a window seat, and large wooden beams running across the ceiling. It was very cozy after a day outside. Branson came back carrying two glasses and a dark bottle. He sat down on the floor beside her.

"What do you have there?"

"Cognac—a souvenir from France," and he poured a little bit in each glass and handed her one.

"What shall we drink to?" she asked.

"To our good health, happiness…" he started.

"…to being together forever and loving always," she finished as they clinked their glasses and took a sip of the cognac. It tickled Sybil's throat, Branson laughed at her reaction to sensation.

He leaned back on the chair and she nestled next to him with his arm around her.

"This afternoon was perfect in every way," she told him as her hand stroked his stomach.

"Good, I wanted your first time to be special," he kissed her forehead.

"It was, more than I could have ever imagined. Thank you," she smiled up at him.

"We will always be together, no matter what happens," he assured her.

"I know that now—but there is still the matter of your mother and my family."

"I reckon Mama 'll come around eventually. She's always looked after us. And now with Papa gone, she's 'specially watchful. I think she's just been tryin' to figure you out, but I'm sure she'll give us her blessing. The bigger fish to fry is your family—we'll have to tell them soon."

"Indeed," she agreed. Then she said, "I know—why don't you come with me back to Downton, to Anna and Mr. Bates' wedding? You could also then go to London for your interview."

"Not sure that's the best time to tell them," he thought for a moment about whether this was one of her crazy schemes.

"It's never going to be a best time, my love."

And she was right about that. "I'll see if I can get time off—won't be easy as lads coming home from the war are hungry for work. But I've been hard working and supportive of union causes, so will try." He then said, "Anyway you came all this way to deliver their invitation, and I am fond of Anna and Bates and would like to wish them well. Done then. And don't worry my love, we'll get through this." He kissed her gently.

Sybil and Branson sat quietly by the fire for the rest of the evening. She read to him from her book.

Later that night the two again made love—she now fully comprehended the emotional and physical bond that love creates. As she lay safely in his arms comforted in the darkness of night, she remembered the stanza from the poem she had read to him two years ago:

_And you. Only we two may interchange  
Each in the other what each has to give.  
Only we two are one, not you and night,_

* * *

_*This was inspired by one of Duchess Emma's comments on an earlier chapter - thanks!_


	24. For and Against

_New developments for our reunited couple. Appreciate the comments, reviews, pearls of wisdom. Enjoy!_

* * *

AGAINST ALL ODDS

Chapter 24 – For and Against

Lying in each other's arms, Branson and Sybil awoke to the calming rays of sun that streamed into their bedroom. Neither spoke. They savored the quietude and closeness the country morning had brought them.

"Good morning my love, did you sleep well?" Sybil finally spoke stretching her arm across Branson's chest.

"I did. I had that feeling of floating all night, but not like I was 'bout to drown" he yawned. Then he added in a more somber tone, "for the first time in a long time my sleep wasn't haunted by ghosts." Kissing her hand he said, "somehow having you here anchored me."

"I'm glad," she replied.

"And I'm glad that we're not apart the day after the first time we made love."

"Me too—you were right about that. I don't think I've ever felt such utter joy," she said. Then she informed him "And given how hard you worked on the fence yesterday I think I'll cook you breakfast."

"Hmm, sure you should venture past tea and toast?" he asked skeptical of her culinary abilities—she was after all the daughter of an Earl and there were many things she still had to learn about being on her own.

"I see, you don't believe I can do it, think I'll set the kitchen afire do you?" she rolled over to straddle him and grabbed his hands. Smiling down at him she commanded, "Well Tom Branson go do your chores and be prepared to feast on the biggest plate of eggs and ham ever."

Branson pulled her down into a kiss and rolled on top of her. They enjoyed the pleasurable touch of the other's nakedness and their early morning play was beginning to get passionate. "Think we'd better put an end to this now my love, or we'll not get out of this bed till dinner," he cautioned then he rose out of bed.

They bathed and dressed. Branson left the house to check on a few things. While he was tending to his tasks, Sybil went about making breakfast. She found wood, fired up the stove, and put on a kettle. She next went to retrieve some eggs and cut slices from the ham in the cupboard. When Branson returned he was surprised to find her busy in the kitchen.

"Well now you were serious about cooking? And you even managed to get eggs from the henhouse," he laughed imagining Lady Sybil Crawley sticking her dainty hand under a plump testy hen.

"I have you know when I was a little girl I used to get the eggs for Mrs. Patmore. She'd let me go out with a basket in the morning. Although we kept it our little a secret from Mama, she wouldn't have thought it proper," she informed him as she began to crack the eggs into the sizzling pan.

Impressed that as a child of privilege she had eagerly engaged a world outside of her own class, Branson complimented "a woman of many talents." He kissed her on the cheek, then sniffed "and I think I smell the toast burning."

"Ohh, oh no!" she cried as she fumbled to remove the toasting rack from the burner.

The two sat down at the table and plowed through the large meal that Sybil had assembled. Branson was impressed with her facility as a cook. She really had transformed from that impulsive girl in the back seat to an independent woman who made her own way—even in someone else's kitchen.

After breakfast the two went for a walk on the northern end of the farm whose landscape was windswept and rockier as it merged with the rising hills. They climbed up to a vista and looked out over the valley. Looking northward, they could see the creeping city as it encroached upon the countryside and far off in the distance was central Belfast with its skyline punctuated by its smokestacks and steeples.

"Different view than Boulonge, eh?" he observed.

"I do remember how you described this landscape all those years ago while we talked in the car, indeed it is spectacular. I'm glad I finally got to see it," she breathed in the fresh country air and turned her head up to catch a fleeting ray of sun peaking from behind the clouds.

Then looking east toward the sliver of blue on the horizon Branson remarked, "you've one more week and then back home."

"It hardly seems it's been five weeks," Sybil sighed, "but you will come soon to Downton and we will tell my parents?"

"We'll do it together." He took a deep breath, "Sybil I want to thank you for coming with me to my family's farm." Turning toward her he continued, "but more importantly thank you for coming to Ireland to find me, for believing in our love." He looked down saying, "I know I can be pig-headed and stubborn at times…"

"My dearest friend stubborn?" she said incredulously and he looked up grinning, his forehead crinkled from her teasing.

"Seriously, it was only because I want the best for you, for you to have all the things you deserve in life. Coming to Belfast I suppose you now know where I come from, who I really am, and I'm happy you accept that."

She took his hands, squeezed them gently and said affectionately "I do understand much better your motivations and reservations about our marriage. By seeing your life here I feel closer to you. Your family, this farm, its challenges, your hard work, have all made you the extraordinary man I fell in love with. You're right we are from two very different worlds, but I say all the more then we have to share." She put her arms on his shoulders, "anyway I already have everything I need in life—I have you." And she kissed him sweetly.

By the time they made it back to the house it was mid-afternoon and almost time to leave. Branson's younger brother Kevin came around 4 o'clock to mind the farm for half the week until his aunt and uncle returned. Far more at home here than his older brother at that age, Kevin liked working the farm. Branson hoped that he would continue to go to school till he finished and someday take over the property from his uncle. Shortly after Kevin arrived, Sybil noticed that Branson seemed to be frantically looking for something to give to his brother. She reminded him that he'd left the front door key on the mantle. "Yes, yes, of course I did," he said relieved and happy that she could now read his mind.

They grabbed their bags and the basket, and walked down the farm road to the main thoroughfare. A short distance to the next town, they caught a bus and then made it back to his mother's house.

* * *

Branson opened the door and before they could drop their bags, the twins stampeded out of the back. "Tom, you are back" one said, "and with Doctor Sybil," the other chimed in and they ran to hug them both. Sybil always found her new name quite amusing. Mary called them back outside.

"Ma I'm back, Sybil is with me," he said as he began to walk upstairs.

"Welcome home son," Mrs. Branson responded but this time her voice came from the parlor.

They walked into the parlor and there she was sitting in one of the chairs finishing a cup of tea.

"Thought I'd surprise ya by makin' it down here today."

Indeed they were both pleasantly surprised and pleased by her effort to get well. It had been three weeks since Sybil's first visit and she had made excellent progress.

"Ma you made it downstairs," Branson went over to kiss his mother on the cheek.

"Mrs. Branson, I'm glad to see that you are improving. I don't have my bag, but will check again next week—one last time before I leave."

"So you'll be leavin then, back home to England?"

"Yes, I only came for five weeks, my internship ends this week."

"And Tom, you'll be goin' with her?" she looked at her son.

"Yes, for a little while, but I'll be back."

"Please sit you two," she instructed. They sat on the sofa. "I never gave an answer when ya asked for my blessin' to your getting married. Now's better than any to say what I need to say," she began, but neither of them knew exactly what was coming next.

She said to Branson "Tom's the best son a mother could ever ask for. He made his father proud. When he settles down I only want him to find a woman that'll care of him how he deserves. Take in all his needs, be a good partner in everything. A bit o' mother's pride ya might say."

She then addressed Sybil, "You bein' a English lady an all made me unsure if you were the one. I can tell you come from rich folk in your manners, talk, and all. And we're simple people here. But…now I can see you make him happy and that you care for him. That ya nursed him during the war and came all this way to find him tells me how much. You've got a good kind heart that's for sure. And you're a woman who knows her own mind—our sex needs more like you."

She smiled at them both—her cheeks rosy and the spark back in her eye, "so yes you two have my blessin' and I'm sure your late father would have said as much too."

"Thank you," Branson said softly, got up and kissed his mother on the forehead, "thank you."

Sybil smiled with a tear in her eye, "thank you Mrs. Branson."

"Oh girl, ya might as well call me 'mama' like the rest o' them or ya can just call me Kate," she told Sybil. Then she remarked, "One last piece of advice, ya should know it won't be without tough times. The world is a changin' but it hasn't caught up with you two just yet. Beware not everyone 'll be on your side. I reckon you'll have to fight for and against a lot a things. But I wish you well and may God bless."

Just then Maeve and Fiona came barreling back in and ran to their mother with some sort of dispute she had to mediate. Mary soon followed, with Brian in tow and in tears.

"Now go ask ma," she sent the boy to his mother, then inquired "Sybil so how was…"

"Um...her Saturday was busy with work while I was away," Branson circumvented the question about her visit to the farm since his mother had no idea that Sybil had joined him. Better in his mother's eyes that she maintained the image of a chaste and proper Englishwoman he decided.

"Oh…well then…I see," Mary replied getting the bigger picture, then she asked a less invasive question "will you be stayin' for supper?"

"No but thank you. I think I should get back to the hospital. It's my last week and I have much to do still. I'm in the maternity ward this week—should be quite a busy few days."

"Well I hope you're not too busy and can join us for one last meal before ya go—I'll get Tom to set a date." Mary replied.

"I'd like that. And why don't you come one day for lunch next week?" Sybil invited (Branson heard the sound of scheming in her voice).

"Well I've so much to do here, I can't get away," Mary said with a hint of regret in her voice.

"Oh go on, since I can finally get downstairs I can look after the little ones. You go and spend some time away from here I'll be fine," Mrs. Branson said to Mary excited by the opportunity.

"Wonderful, then come by on Tuesday," she said. Then Sybil got up to say good-bye to everyone. She left with Branson who walked her back to the hospital.

* * *

The two strolled arm-in-arm through Belfast's varied neighborhoods. They were ecstatic that his mother had finally approved of their marriage, but also realized that Sybil's family might not be as receptive.

"By the way just what do you have in mind for my Mary?" he asked her.

"What do you mean, why so suspicious?"

"Because I know you—you've got some scheme going," he reminded her.

"Alright I do—I'll tell you next week if it works out," she squeezed his arm, amazed at how well he could now decipher her motivations.

As they were passed through one area of town, they heard yelling, bottles crashing, and saw several men coming toward them. Branson pulled Sybil to the side assuming they'd be ignored as the unruly group passed.

"What have we here?" someone yelled.

"She's a beauty," another stopped.

Soon they were surrounded by five men (four young and a burly looking older one) who all seemed drunk and in search of trouble. One reached out to grab Sybil's arm. She quickly recoiled. Branson intervened by warning, "Leave her be and we'll be on our way."

"Betcha she's got some ripe fruit in her little basket there," another jeered.

"Aww, ya not gonna share?" taunted the older brute who then grabbed Sybil by the hand.

"Get your hand off me!" she exclaimed yanking her hand away, now angered by the manhandling. The force of her gesture opened the lid of the basket, and the tin and jar went flying out. The sound of glass hitting the pavement distracted the group for a moment.

"Oh what's it here, a right proper Lady? I say!" one of the group mocked in an aristocratic voice.

"Well go back to where ya came from, take all your kind and damned religion with ya—leave our land to us?" one of the younger men yelled at her and the group roared with disdainful laughter.

"Yeah, what's a workin' stiff of the likes of you doin' with Miss La-di-da here," the big brute moved to grab Sybil again.

Branson stood between them and said "hands off or I swear…"

"Or what, you're no match for me, I take what I damn well want," the burly man cautioned.

"I didn't survive bullets and bombs to be bullied by you," Branson warned him and glared at the others.

Egged on by the drunken party the brute pulled his hand back to hit Branson while his head was turned to make sure Sybil was safe.

"Tom watch out," Sybil warned him but it was too late—the punch connected and Branson stumbled dropping her bag. He was stunned momentarily.

"Yeah, good right hit Joe," the group got rowdier. "Give'em another!"

Branson quickly recovered. He stood up and delivered a quick jab to his aggressor's bulging belly and another swift punch to his chin. "Errghh," the brute cried as he fell back and crumpled to the ground. Branson grabbed Sybil's hand, her bag, and they bolted around the corner. The gang did not pursue the two, as they were too busy trying to peel their unconscious friend up off the pavement.

Safely out of range, Branson dropped to his knees shaking his hand. Sybil noticed he was bleeding from a gash to his temple and he had a nasty bruise. "So sorry, God I'm sorry, are you all right?" he asked her.

"I'm fine." She looked in her bag and found a handkerchief to put on the cut to stop the bleeding. Next she helped him up, he was still a bit foggy, and had him put his arm around her, "Come here, lean on me."

And the two hobbled the rest of the way to the hospital.

* * *

Sybil managed to get him around the back of the hospital and to the staff entrance. Once inside she sat him down at the large table outside of the kitchen. Dinner had been served already and Mrs. Kerr and her staff were in the back finishing up the days work.

"Oh your back," Mrs. Kerr came into the room. "My, my what happened here," she asked concerned about Branson's nasty cut. She was a sturdy older woman with salt-and-pepper hair and strong accent that told of her Dubliner roots.

"Some hooligans came upon us," he told her, "I'll be fine."

"Dr. Crawley, I reckon you might need some help getting your beau here into one the rooms to check on that mean cut," Mrs. Kerr told Sybil.

"Yes, I think you are right, do you think Peter could help carry him to one of the consultation rooms. He might need a stitch or two."

"I'll go fetch him. Tell ya what—I'll pull together a little something for you two when ya come back, how's that," she smiled warmly and winked at Branson.

"See I think she's sweet on you," Sybil humored him as she waited for help.

Peter came and helped him into one of the rooms. Sybil came back in with a tray of antiseptic, cotton, and other tools. He did need a couple of stitches, which she methodically went about doing. "All done."

"I feel better. Looks like Dr. Crawley has tended yet another one of my family," Branson said putting his arm around her waist as she finished swabbing her handiwork on his face with antiseptic.

"Well you could say it's a long overdue repayment," she told him as she put away the equipment.

"For what?"

"For carrying me out of that awful riot all those years ago in Ripon," she reminded him.

"I'd forgotten about that. I was crushed that day at seeing your lifeless body on the ground—I knew then I couldn't live without you," he confessed. "But Mama was right about having to deal with difficulties. As you saw tonight, the world can get ugly and not everyone is accepting of our differences."

"I know those thugs were awful. You took out that bully in two quick punches. I'm grateful for how you defended my honor. But I suppose—and I'm loathe to admit it—my parents were right about being in danger."

"Yes, they were right to worry about your safety. If both sides around Irish independence don't maintain clear heads, then I suspect once this war is over all hell's going to break loose 'round here. And drunken fools will be the least of everyone's worries."

Just then Mrs. Kerr came in "Good to see ya patched him up. Come on back and eat somethin'."

They returned to dining room and sat down to a small meal. They chatted to Mrs. Kerr and the staff who joined them to eat. Branson thanked Mrs. Kerr for the dinner and the tasty lunch he'd inhaled the day before. Sybil walked him out to the front gate.

She looked at the cut and touched it gently, "this should heal quickly—the stitches will help."

"Not a good way to end a couple of wonderful days eh?"

"Nothing could shatter the perfection of these last two days," she said.

"I'm glad we've had this time together, just us two. And you are feeling fine after yesterday?"

"Yes, of course. Making love with you cemented our bond, I couldn't feel more at ease and happy," she said stroking his cheek.

"Neither can I. Let's hold onto this feeling as we'll have our challenges ahead of us—let's just hope no more like tonight though."

"Goodnight, my love," she bid him as she leaned in to kiss him. Their mouths met once again in heated passion.

"Not sure I want this to end, so I'd best be going. Goodnight, my dearest friend," he kissed her cheek, then walked home smiling.

When she stepped back inside Mrs. Kerr had made her a cup of tea to take up to her room, "don't we seem like we're sailin' in the clouds. Now that's a good lad—he's a keeper."

"Indeed, I'll not be letting him go anytime soon," Sybil assured her as she floated blissfully up the stairs.


	25. The List

_Their story is heating up (but alas winding down.) Love to hear your thoughts, comments, and reviews. Enjoy!_

* * *

AGAINST ALL ODDS

Chapter 25 – The List

For her first full day back at Downton Sybil had a busy day and composed a list to complete her many tasks. She had already taken care of item number one before she went downstairs to see her parents at breakfast.

"Good morning," she said as she walked into the large dining room. She smiled at Mr. Carson who waited dutifully nearby.

"Lovely to have you home again, hope you slept well," her mother asked looking over her youngest child, amazed at how much she'd grownup. "I'm still not too keen that you cut off your beautiful hair. I know its all the rage for shop girls and movie actresses, but I believe for a young woman of your status long hair is more appropriate."

"I'm well rested, it's been a long week having just returned from Ireland. Thank you for asking," Sybil replied deliberately ignoring Cora's comment about her grooming choices. While content to be home, in truth she felt a little overwhelmed by the luxury and formality she had taken for granted as a child. During her time in Belfast she had become accustomed to a streamlined routine and spartan environment. There she was far too busy to consider questions of comfort and the need to have her every desire catered to. Life at the hospital and with Branson allowed her to navigate everyday occurrences in the way she chose. She'd never considered that privilege in its own way was a burden, but somehow she felt less encumbered when on her own.

Her father read the paper as he finished his coffee. Sybil poured herself a cup of tea, prepared a slice of toast with jam, and sat down at the table.

"Looks like we've sustained heavy casualties in the Marne. The French troops have got to rally with us," Robert said as he perused the headlines. "God when will this utter waste of life and energy end?"

"We all think its close to over, then the Germans regroup and push back. Dr. McNeil has asked if I would spend some time back at the military hospital this summer—but this time as an interning doctor. I said yes, so I don't think I will be here as much as I'd thought."

"You are far too busy with work, when do you have time for fun my dear?" her mother joined in, "Dinner went by so quickly last night, and with your grandmother holding court we barely heard anything about your trip. You know we had our reservations, but we only were concerned about your safety. So tell us about Belfast, what exactly did you do for five weeks?"

"Well I, I," Sybil hesitated wanting to tell them her news, but realizing it was best to wait. "I worked in a small hospital dedicated to women's health and run by women doctors."

"That must have been different from the big London hospital?" Cora asked.

"It was different and challenging, but rewarding. Everyone was very dedicated. I was able to rotate through the different areas of the hospital. I even spent time going on house visits to sick and pregnant women," she told them, "I witnessed conditions of poverty that were utterly heart wrenching. You can't imagine what their lives are like: children working in factories rather than going to school; constant threats of sickness due to unsanitary water. These people need our help and we've wasted so much on bombs and guns."

As he looked over the top of the paper, Robert told her, "My dearest daughter, you'll take on solving all the problems of the world. I'd imagine you just might give everything we own away if we aren't careful. I suppose this will become a new cause for you?"

"I shall do what I can, where I can," she replied.

"That's all well and good, but with your hospital work and charity causes when will you ever find time to meet your future husband? You can't turn back the clock you know. At least Mary will marry Matthew within the next year," Cora nudged. "I think we need to invite an eligible young man up for a garden party next month. We can invite…"

"Mother—please do not do a thing! I'm still not over the Dr. McNeil disaster from the spring," she reminded Cora about her previous attempt to meddle in her life.

"Oh, one can make a mistake and be forgiven can't one?"

"Yes, of course," she told her mother. In a more sober voice she said, "We should all be open to forgiving those actions which can make others unhappy." Then looking earnestly at her parents she told them: "I want you both to know that no matter what I choose to do in life or who to be with—I love you."

Taken aback by the comment, Cora looked at Sybil and replied, "So serious on a fine summer morning. You're not off on another adventure are you? Which reminds me Joseph can drive you to Ripon this afternoon as you requested."

"Thank you. I've many things to do today," Sybil said finishing her tea and getting up from the table. "I'd like to see you both just before dinner if you don't mind."

"Certainly, we have no commitments," her mother replied looking over her morning paper.

Sybil headed to the drawing room to take care of the second item on her list:

_2. See Anna_

"Milady, good to have you back home at Downton, new hair and all," Anna complemented Sybil as she came into the large airy room.

Although they had corresponded, the two women had not seen each other since Edith's wedding.

"Anna, happy to see you. Oh yes the infamous hair, call it part of staking a claim for life outside of Downton, which will not to be your home much longer?" Sybil replied delighted to see the soon-to-be married housemaid. "Thank you for meeting me, please will you sit down for a moment," she gestured to her to sit on the sofa.

Anna delayed, her actions automatically shaped by the old rules of propriety that govern social interactions in the house, but then their friendship had transgressed those boundaries long ago and she sat down next to Sybil.

"So you and Mr. Bates will be walking down the aisle tomorrow then?"

"Ah, yes milady—I'm still with me head in the clouds. Life's 'bout to turn upside down, though change in a good way," she blushed. "I love John and I'm happy we'll be livin' together, but its still hard leavin' old ways and places behind don't you think? He's busy now makin' ready our new home in one of the houses Mr. Crawley fixed up awhile back."

"Change can be good and its cathartic—one can see it as renewal rather than loss. Plus tomorrow is a whole new life for you—a husband and new home. To celebrate the changes ahead I wanted to give you this," Sybil handed her a small flat wrapped package.

"Now what's this milady? You've already gotten his Lordship to take me on as an assistant to Mrs. Hughes helpin' her update the household management. I owe you so much, I don't know what to say?"

"Well open it and find out," Sybil suggested. And Anna unwrapped the paper to find a beautiful linen handkerchief with intricate laced edges.

"Oh my its beautiful, you're too kind. Thank you."

"Something new to wish you a prosperous beginning. I thought you might carry it down the aisle."

"Its from Ireland then?" she said looking at the fine lacework.

"Yes, and its also a way of thanking you for forwarding Tom's address. I can't begin to tell you how my time in Belfast changed my life, but I simply wanted to show my appreciation for your all your help," she gave Anna a hug. "Tom and I…"

Just then Mr. Carson appeared a bit surprised to see the two in intimate conversation, "Excuse me Lady Sybil, Mrs. Hughes would like Anna to meet with her, something about the electrical specialist and wiring the kitchen."

"Thank you Mr. Carson, I'll see to it," Anna replied as she got up to leave.

"Can you give this note to Mr. Bates it's a small favor I need to ask of him," and she passed on an envelope. "Anna, I'll see you tomorrow at the church, you'll be the most beautiful bride," Sybil congratulated her friend as she left the room, now onto the task three:

_3. Lunch with Cousin Isobel _

Sybil walked to Crawley house in the early afternoon to visit with Cousin Isobel who had invited her for lunch. It was a lovely warm day and time outside was rejuvenating after yesterday's trip from London and the journey earlier in the week from Belfast.

It always warmed her heart to see Isobel. Sybil had so much to share about her professional and personal life, and she always valued her cousin's candid and thoughtful advice. They had lunch in the dining room and chatted away about Belfast and new developments at the Cottage Hospital. Afterwards they went out into garden behind the house for tea. They sat under a lovely trellis of fragrant white roses. She and Isobel began to talk about the reinvigoration of the suffrage movement now that the war seemed to be coming to a close when Matthew and Mary came out to join them.

"Cousin Sybil so happy to see you—and I mean that in its truest sense. You look lovely in your peach dress," he said coming over to kiss her on the cheek.

Sybil was ecstatic that Matthew had finally gotten his eyesight back. Mary soon followed behind him. Both sat down and joined the conversation.

"Sybil was just filling me in on her Irish adventure," Isobel told them.

"Yes my sister seems to be the most adventurous of all of us. Though Mama and Papa still seem to be in a lather about this latest trek—they were grumbling about your misguided willfulness just last week," Mary said.

"Well, this morning they seemed to be fine, but I can't be sure about their mood tomorrow," she told them cryptically.

"What do you mean tomorrow, what are you planning to spring on them next? Oh, don't tell me you are off to America—Granny will disown you for sure and blame it all on her carpetbagging daughter-in-law!"

Sybil began, "Since you three are here and represent the most level headed in the family I might as well start with you. Perhaps you can help calm the storm that is sure to erupt this evening."

"Now you've got us on edge, what on earth are you talking about Sybil?" Mary wondered.

"I don't know where to start. Well it began at… The other reason I went to Belfast… I'll just say it—I'm getting married."

"Married?" Matthew asked stunned at the announcement, "well that certainly must be good news."

"My little sister getting married, but to whom? Oh please don't tell me it's weaselly Winnie Strallon who stalked you at Edith's wedding or Dr. McNeil, very endearing man, but a tad ancient for you," she said curious as to where this surprise revelation was leading.

"Winnie, oh god no! I'm afraid its far more complicated than either of those men." Sybil took a deep breath as said: "I'm engaged to Tom Branson and we are to be married."

"Tom Branson, now why does that name sound familiar," Mary said to herself.

"You mean Branson the former chauffeur at Downton don't you?" Isobel asked calmly.

"Yes, who used to work for the family," she confirmed waiting for shockwave in the room to dissipate.

"Ahem," Isobel started and looked at Matthew and Mary to gage their reaction. "Well now. He seems a solid honest young man—do you love him?" Isobel asked.

"I do, for so long I can't remember when I didn't," Sybil replied, feeling a little more confident that at least Isobel was inching toward her corner.

"If you know this is what you want, then I can certainly offer my congratulations. This is wonderful news," Isobel told her taking hold of Sybil's hand to reassure her.

"Wait, let me get this straight, you are going to marry our former chauffeur Branson?"Mary gasped at her sister's news. Then she said sarcastically, "My, my this makes any of my past misdeeds pale in comparison. You certainly have become more than a modern woman, this is down right futuristic. How ever will you tell our parents?"

"They will find out later today. I wanted you all to know because they'll need your support to help them cope with this news."

Matthew finally spoke: "Well he always seemed like a good all-round chap. I remember that afternoon in Ripon when you were hurt—he was absolutely distraught. Now it all makes sense. Don't think Cousin Robert was too keen on his politics, but if its what you want then I'm all for it," he went got up to give his cousin a kiss on the cheek.

"Thank you both, I needed someone in the family to know. Truth is we've been engaged since November when Tom asked me to marry him while in Boulogne. He broke it off when he had to leave Downton to take care of his family back home. I couldn't let it end there, I had to see him again and once in Belfast I asked him to marry me."

"So you became engaged while in France and in Ireland? No wonder you flew the coop. I thought you had your head buried so far in the books that you didn't even notice men existed. And all the time you were skulking around with one of the staff!" she said looking at her sister in awe of both her courage and foolhardiness. "Well I think you are making a fatal mistake. Where will you live, in some worker's cottage on the estate? How will he support you on a chauffeur's pay or is hoping to leech off your inheritance?"

"Of everyone I thought you'd at least be on my side. And it wasn't like that at all. He's a good man, a gentle and kind person who's changed my life. Since leaving Downton he's been working in the shipyards and on his family's farm to support his sick mother, brothers, and sisters. And I'm proud him. I love him," Sybil stood her ground.

Matthew interjected: "Mary show your sister some support and sympathy. You're coming off as a complete snob."

"Oh Matthew you've never understood the responsibilities of rank—even if you are to be the heir to Downton."

"Sometimes I wonder if I understand why I agreed to marry you. You can be so unyielding," he replied to her dig at him.

"Well someone's got to be honest here. Don't say I didn't warn you my dear sister. Be prepared, father's anger will no doubt make the wrath of God seem like a chaste peck on the cheek." And Sybil knew Mary was right at least on that score. "Don't' worry I won't say anything—I'll leave it to you to break the news." Then Mary got up stormed out of the garden upset by her fiance's comment. Matthew followed. Angered by Mary's insensitivity, he went for a walk in the opposite direction.

"Cousin Isobel, please forgive me I didn't mean to cause a such furor," Sybil said leaning back in her chair.

"You'll be just fine—not to worry. If Branson's the man you love and he makes you happy, then he's your future. If there's anything I can do to help just ask," Isobel offered trying to ease the growing anxiety she could see on Sybil's face.

Just then Mr. Molesley came out, "Pardon me Lady Sybil, Joseph is here for you."

"Thank you for everything—the support and for caring" Sybil said as she embraced her cousin. She did have one request for Isobel and then she took her leave.

_4. Ripon_

After all these years of being picked up at Ripon's train station, it was now Sybil who waited for the train to arrive. She had knots in her stomach from this afternoon's disastrous conversation, but as soon as she saw his familiar face the tension began to ease.

"Tom, I can't begin to tell you how happy I am to see you," she said bowling over with tears of joy and utter trepidation.

He dropped his bag and they grab each other's hands happy to be reunited. "I've missed you my love," Branson started and wiped the tear from her eye. "All I want to do is take you in my arms right now," he confessed. But both realized that Ripon was a much smaller and more provincial town than London and public displays of affection would certainly set tongues gossiping about the Earl of Grantham's daughter. They walked out to the car where Joseph stood waiting.

"Joseph, all is well?" Branson asked of his replacement who was in turn stunned to see his predecessor. "Suppose she's running like a charm after my adjustments this spring?" he asked looking over the center of his former duties.

"Indeed, she's better'n brand new. Branson—you're the person we come to get milady?" Joseph asked.

"Yes, he is," Sybil said. "And we'll be returning to Downton."

Branson helped Sybil into the car. He hesitated for a moment, so used to being in the front of this vehicle. Sybil held out her hand and drew him in. Joseph started the car and they were on their way. They began filling each other in on the past week they had been apart.

"So how are you faring this second day back," he asked her.

"Oh not so good—I told Matthew, Mary, and Isobel."

"And?"

"Well my cousins the Crawley's were both gracious and congratulatory. Mary on the other hand pitched a fit. This isn't going to be a pretty scene with my family."

"Don't worry. I'm sure they'll come around. After all they love you."

"They may love me, but when it comes to honor and duty you don't know what my family is capable of doing to maintain the order of things," she said with a heavy sigh.

He put his arm around her. "Remember" he said and drew her into a kiss, "that's what matters most."

"Thank you I needed that reminder," she said comforted and happy to be with him again. "I know it's been only a few days but I've missed you. And your news how was the interview yesterday with Col. Cosgrove?"

"Well…"

"Oh don't tease me, tell me what happened," she anxiously said.

"The jobs mine!"

"That's the best news!"

"The Colonel was pleased with my work and leadership in the unit—his Lordship's reference confirmed his observations. So I'm officially hired by the new Linhope Motor Car Company."

"So what will the new work entail?"

"For starters, I'll apprentice with the engineers. Then he wants me to help manage the men who'll assemble the cars. This means I'll have some say in working conditions and wages. He's planning on hiring as many veterans as possible, which will be great for men coming home. And the best, it pays four times what I'm making in the shipyards, so I can help my family and support you like you deserve."

"Finally some good news, which we will certainly need to offset what's about to happen next, " Sybil said as they passed through Downton's gates.

Sybil retrieved the piece of paper from her pocket and reviewed it:

_1. Repack bag_ - She had discreetly handed it to Joseph when she came downstairs for breakfast.

_2. See Anna - _She had given Anna the gift to celebrate her marriage along with a note for Mr. Bates asking him to talk to Branson this evening after they leave Downton.

_3. Lunch with Cousin Isobel_ – She told her cousins and sister about their engagement hoping to give some forewarning, thereby softening the blow to the family. She had also asked Isobel if she could stay the next two nights at Crawley house. Joseph dropped off her bag when he came for her.

_4. Ripon_ – she went to Ripon and picked up Branson at the train station

She came to the last item:

_5. Tell my parents_

Branson looked down in her hands and asked "what've got you there?

"My way of staying focused and on track today," she replied as she put the list back in her pocket and the motorcar pulled up in front of the house. Branson got out first then helped Sybil. They both looked up at the large imposing neo-Gothic façade, then at one another and he gently squeezed her hand. As they walked up the stone step, Mr. Carson opened the door.


	26. Truth be Told

_At last, the showdown! Thank you for sharing your enthusiastic responses to this fanfic – its fun to hear what you are thinking. Enjoy!_

* * *

AGAINST ALL ODDS

Chapter 26 – Truth Be Told

Mr. Carson officiously greeted Sybil, "Welcome back from Ripon milady," as she walked into the familiar hall with Branson behind her. "And Branson, welcome back to Downton," Mr. Carson said puzzled by the former chauffeur's reappearance with Lady Sybil.

"Good to see you Mr. Carson," Branson replied in low voice, as he nodded and smiled. He was happy to see the butler who had always been a cordial authority within Downton. But he was also keenly aware that this had never been his routine threshold of entry into the great household—and Carson knew it.

Sybil inquired, "Mr. Carson where can I find my father?"

"His Lordship is in the library."

"I see, could you please ask my mother to come to library, I wish to see both of them," Sybil graciously asked the loyal eyes and ears of Downton.

"Yes milady. I believe your father was expecting you. Branson let me take your bag," Mr. Carson suggested.

"Thank you Mr. Carson," Branson replied sensing the butler realized what was afoot and wanted to help in some way.

Branson and Sybil walked into library. While both had been there before, this time the room represented unknown territory. Sybil thought at least for her father he would hear the news within a sphere in which he felt in control, although clearly he could no longer influence the course of his daughter's life.

Sitting at the desk with his back to the door, Robert was intently writing something down in a book and checking it against another one. "Papa," she said as they came into the sunlit room.

"Yes dear, I'll be right with you. I suspect you want to talk about one of your causes you brought up this morning. You are always trying to do something for others. So what can we help you do?" he put the top on his fountain pen, turned around in his chair and cocked his head, "Branson what are you doing here, I thought you went back to Ireland?"

"Your Lordship," Branson nodded in acknowledgment.

"He's here," Sybil barely uttered until she finally mustered her courage. Her hands were behind her back and Branson was firmly holding one of them, "He's here because we have something to tell you and Mama." Just then Cora walked in.

"Sorry I was just going over a list of things with O'Brien to donate to Mary's charity, so who have we here?" Cora asked not recognizing Branson from behind—especially out of uniform and in the dark brown suit he wore.

"It's Branson, milady," he replied and turned to greet Lady Grantham. He and Sybil now stood between her parents.

"Oh, of course!" she said surprised to see her former chauffeur. "Branson, I hope your mother's health has improved. Might you be here for Anna and Mr. Bates' wedding? If so how kind, you are a dear friend. Is there something you are helping our daughter with doing?"

"Yes Sybil, what is this all about? Is this perhaps about rehiring Branson?" Robert inquired as he stood up.

"Yes it is about Branson. Papa," Sybil looked at Robert, "Mama…" then at Cora.

Branson could sense her apprehension—mostly the fear of hurting her beloved parents. He gently squeezed her hand and Sybil looked at him, then he said in a very earnest voice, "Your Lord and Ladyship, I've asked your daughter to marry me and she's accepted."

"What the devil have you done?" Robert replied to them, neither quite comprehending what Branson had said nor what his daughter had accepted.

"I've accepted Branson's proposal of marriage," Sybil clarified for her father.

"I see," Robert said as he gazed out of the window parsing the appropriate response to their surprise. Cora had yet to speak.

The two lovers said nothing else as they waited for what they knew would be an endless stream of questions and strongly worded objections. Cora walked past them and stood supportively next to her husband.

"Well then, is this a recent development?" Robert began as he tried to sort out the situation (and his plan of attack.)

Branson looked at Sybil who replied to her father, "No, we were first engaged in November of last year."

"How could you have become engaged, you were supposed to be in France? Are you telling us you didn't go?" he asked confused by his daughter's answer.

"Yes, I was in Boulogne. Tom and I crossed paths when he was sick with influenza in the hospital. While there we became engaged," Sybil responded still unable to gage her father's mood.

"So it happened while abroad, just like that?" was the next query.

"No, we've been in love for a long time now—before we met in Boulogne," Sybil told her father.

"If that is the case then you are telling your mother and me that you have been sneaking around behind our backs with one of the staff?" he suggested, with sounds of betrayal interlaced in his tone of voice.

Sybil and Branson could sense anger the building and needed to defuse his temper.

"Your Lordship if I may. It wasn't like that at all. We met accidentally in London over two years ago while Sybil was a nurse." He looked at Sybil, "Your daughter's more than changed my life she literally saved it. And I want to her to have everything she deserves. I love her and wish to marry her."

"Ha, I knew letting you go to London was a mistake," Robert began with his voice growing louder. "I laid down rules right here in this room and I am quite sure you disobeyed every single one of them. Do you respect nothing? How can I trust you? We trusted you to go to France on your own and now say you've become engaged to our former chauffeur. Then we let you go to Belfast thinking everything was just…" Robert stopped and began shaking his head affirmatively. "So now I understand your insistence on going—it was to see Branson! You aren't going to tell me that wasn't the motivation for your so called internship?"

"No, well yes, Papa. Our desire to get married—if you can imagine—is complicated; we recognize that. I needed to see him, he had called off our engagement because, because he…" Sybil tried to explain, but realizing this was turning unpleasant very quickly.

"Complicated? Complicated! Its more than that Sybil," Robert reminded her as he walked near the sofa trying to sort out this situation. "If you were engaged in November, clearly you were still so in March when you were both here. And just what went on during your sister Edith's wedding? Even more assignations and secret rendezvous I suppose?"

"Sir, we never meant to be deceptive or disrespectful, we just didn't know how or when to yet tell you," Branson rallied in their defense.

"And if you want to know we fell in love four years ago when Tom first started his job at Downton. Neither of us realized it at the time. When we met quite by accident in London it became evident we had feelings for one another. We know all too well we come from different worlds. It's taken a long time to figure a way to overcome that divide and be together—but we have. We just wanted to tell you and hoped you would understand."

Finally, Cora spoke: "Sybil, your father and I are very disappointed in you. You have commitments and expectations and you have failed to respect those obligations. While I hate to ask this question I think we have a right to know: have you maintained your, well your honor?"

Sybil did not know what to say to such an invasive question into her privacy. She had grown tired and leery the lying. And in some respects, while she loved her parents she no longer subscribed to their rigid moral codes. Her heart and soul belonged to Branson and believed their sexual intimacy was simply a part of that bond. So she told them honestly, "No. If you must know my private life I am no longer that innocent girl, I am a woman who makes her own choices and I am not ashamed."

"Oh my god, this will be such a scandal amongst our London social circle. Oh and what will your grandmother say?" Cora put her hands over her mouth looking horrified and pale. "I knew letting you leave Downton would turn out badly, you are ruined—who will ever marry you now?" she said sitting down in a chair.

"Mama you don't understand. I don't need anyone else this _is_ the man I will marry. Tom is the man whose children I will have. We wanted to tell you of our decision—but it will happen with or without your approval," Sybil vehemently stated, determined to stand up for the most important relationship in her life. She thought she would try the tact of reasoning with her parents, "Marriages happen for many reasons. You both married for money. But I don't think that is important. I am choosing to marry for love. Why is that not equally acceptable?"

"How dare you ask such an impertinent question. What will you live on?" Robert barked at Sybil.

"Sir, please do not yell at her. I assure you I will be able to support your daughter," Branson told Lord Grantham trying to calm his former employer's fury.

"So you want my daughter, the daughter of an Earl to live off the wages of a servant then?" Robert argued back at them.

"I'll be working for a new company that manufactures motorcars as an apprentice engineer and manager," Branson told them.

"And we'll have my salary once I'm a full-fledged physician," Sybil added.

"I knew your radical ideas and unorthodox ways would corrupt my daughter: women's suffrage, socialist ideals of community, and the equal distribution of wealth—dangerous harebrained blather all of it!" Robert accused Branson. "I hardly recognize her. I knew I should have fired you after that riot in Ripon! No wonder my daughter didn't want you let go."

"No Papa, I am my own person because this is the life I chose and the person I've chosen to share it with."

Just then Mary entered the room. "I can hear this raucous conversation all the way upstairs. And from the sound of things I surmise you must of finally heard."

"Oh you know too?" Robert asked Mary which made him even more indignant. "Huh, are we the last to know then? Does the entire staff know my daughter was bedding one their own?"

"Yes I've heard her news, Sybil told me, Cousin Isobel, and Matthew earlier today—I warned her. Oh and you've slept with him too!" Mary said, surprised by her father's last intimation.

Sybil implored her father again, "If money isn't important to me why can't I marry for love?"

"Oh, don't be so naïve and utopian," Mary chastised Sybil. "I asked her where they would live—in one of the worker's cottages? Sybil how could you?"

"I'm not being naïve, perhaps if you were less obsessed with money and position—you might have married Matthew years ago. But instead you delayed telling him because you thought the strategic alliance wouldn't have included the plum prize: this house and the title. But you failed to see that the biggest prize of all is Matthew's love and you continue to devalue it because deep down you think he's not good enough and that you've settled for less. Well if you want to build a dungeon of misery filled with your prized possessions then please be my guest. But I'm not going to make that mistake. I love Tom and we are going to be married." Sybil confidently staked her position as she looked back at Branson.

Mary was stunned by her sister's allegations. Finally, Lord Grantham asserted his full authority and he commanded of Sybil, "YOU will do no such thing, I forbid it! You will not leave this house until I say so—that includes returning to London. You are cut off financially and you will stay here until you have return to your senses! Do I make myself clear!"

The sound of the dressing gong resonated through the house. All was silent while everyone regained their respective composure.

Sybil took a deep breath. She was her own woman. Dr. Kentridge had tried to break her. Even Branson had tried to decide for her, but she wasn't going to let her father dictate terms to her anymore: "So you remember after I was hurt in Ripon I once threatened to leave here? Back then I had nowhere to go, but now I do," she leaned on Branson. "I'm sorry to have hurt you. I do love you and hope that you will come to understand our decision. But Downton, this life, is no longer my future. We have told you and you have stated your opinion on the matter," Sybil announced to her family. "I guess this then is good-bye."

The two lovers turned around and walked out of the library leaving Mary trying to console her weeping mother and Lord Grantham staring out of the window, fuming, and powerless to intervene.

Mr. Carson stood stoically near the stair as they emerged from the library. The butler handed Branson his bag "Thank you Mr. Carson," he said.

"Please, you two do take care," he said sympathetically as he opened the front door and watched them leave.

* * *

They walked hand in hand away from the house and down the drive. Both were too stunned to talk about what had just happened. The fresh air was invigorating. The sunny day, slight breeze, and cadence of their pace slowly released the emotional tumult that both felt from the onslaught of accusations from her family.

It took about twenty minutes to reach Downtown's arched gateway. Once across that threshold Sybil stopped for a moment to catch her breath. She looked around and took in the beauty of the forest and wildflowers in bloom.

"Odd this is where we used to park all those years ago, remember?"

"I do," he replied looking around him. "I also remember a curious girl who wanted to know everything about the world and how it worked. Her questions didn't bother me as I was entranced by her smile especially when I could make her laugh," he said lovingly to her.

"Was I that eager—did I badger my handsome young driver?" she ventured the semblance of a smile. "Truth be told, all I wanted to do was hear his lilting voice talk about the rolling hills of his Irish home. I wanted to see that world through his beautiful blue eyes." Then Sybil looked at the ground began to quietly sob. Branson took her into his arms. He stood firmly and held her close till she stopped.

"My dearest friend, don't worry they'll come around." He then looked down at her teary face, "we have each other. You are my family. And we will build our lives together from here." His lips met hers in a gentle kiss. "Now let's get back to the village."

As they went along Sybil asked, "so, now what will we do? I can't go back to my Aunt Rosamond's in London. Father has too strong of an influence over her allowance and I don't want to draw her into the fray. Anyway I need to be on my own—no rules, servants, formalities."

"We've talked of marriage, but we haven't set a date. When should we get married?" he said trying to boost her spirits.

"I guess…soon. We did say originally when the guns stopped."

"But we don't know when that will be. From the look of things lately it may not happen anytime soon. Should we still wait?" he asked, although he could see that look in her eyes—the one that he knew was in the midst of formulating some scheme. "Alright, what are you thinking?"

"I start with Dr. McNeil in September. When does your job begin?"

"As soon as I'm ready, though I need to go back to Belfast to take care of a few things," he said as they stopped walking.

"Then let's leave here the day after tomorrow, find a place of our own between your new employ and mine, and then get married," Sybil boldly suggested.

"Are you sure, its not the typical way of doing it?"

"Absolutely sure, and anyway since when have we ever fallen under the column of typical or conventional?" she asked him as she took both his hands. "I want to spend my life with you. We've professed so to ourselves and told those closest to us, whether they liked it or not—that's the commitment that matters most. The ceremony merely presents it to the rest of the world."

"Then that's what we'll do," he kissed her hands. Both were happy to be moving forward and coming to terms with her family's disastrous reception of their news.

Branson walked Sybil to the gates of Crawley house. "Won't you come in?" she asked.

"I think you should talk about what happened to Mrs. Crawley—she'll help sort things out. I'll eat something at the inn and come by later to see how you're getting on," he told her and kissed her on the cheek.

* * *

When Branson returned two hours later to Crawley House. Mr. Molesley brought him into the sitting room where Sybil was having tea and coffee with Isobel and Matthew.

"Tom, there you are. Come in and join us," Sybil got up and took him by the hand. "You of course remember my cousins the Crawleys."

"Branson or I suppose its Tom, please sit down, lovely to see you again," Isobel greeted him.

"Thank you Mrs. Crawley, good to see you again. I won't stay to long since it's late, but just wanted to check on Sybil," he smiled at his fiancé.

"Please call me Isobel," she warmly told him trying to ease his nervousness and welcome him as the future husband of her cousin.

"Same here, Matthew is fine," he heard from Matthew as he stood up to greet him.

They sat for a few minutes and talked about the merits of country life versus living in the big city—London, Manchester, and Belfast. Matthew and Branson talked a bit about their experiences in the war. Sybil's cousins were gracious and kind. The agreeable meeting with this side of Sybil's family balanced the unpleasantness earlier that evening at Downton.

It was after 10 o'clock when Branson bid goodnight to the Crawleys. Sybil walked him out. They sat on a bench for a moment in the garden in the front.

"Mr. Bates came by this evening. He's always been levelheaded fellow, so his advice was a relief. Thank you for asking him to speak with me," Branson informed her.

"I'm glad, I thought you might need someone on your side. And you were right Cousin Isobel helped me see it from my parent's perspective. But she fully supports our decision to marry. And I am particularly sorry that Mary wasn't more understanding. Her perception of marriage comes from being was unable to inherit her family's legacy because she's a woman. That fact has hurt her deeply. As you can see Matthew is a wonderful person and she keeps throwing that aside," she said wishing her sister could change.

"I've always like Mr. Crawley—sorry Matthew. But I do feel bad we've lied to your parents and it hurt them in some way. I wish we could've been more above board," he confessed.

"You heard me I did apologize for being secretive, but they would've been angry no matter what. They would've tried to force us apart no matter what. My father can be dictatorial at times, although he may have good intentions. We needed to wait for many reasons, we're stronger for it, and now we can marry," she said confidently.

"You still haven't picked a date you know," he reminded her.

"I'll tell you after tomorrow's wedding, then we start our life together," she told him as she looked into his eyes. "I so wish I could be with you tonight. I need to feel the warmth of your body and your arms around me," she said putting one of her hands around his neck.

"Um, I've missed the sweetness of your touch, I've never been happier than that day in the country" Branson said as he closed his eyes while Sybil's hands massaged his shoulders inside his shirt. "Ahh, I think you are going to get us into trouble if we don't stop," he said coming to his senses, which was true—one, they were sitting outside in a garden that faced the road and two, bringing Lord Grantham's daughter to his room at the inn would have ignited a major scandal in the very tiny village. "My love, we'll just have to wait till we've a place of our own," he kissed her as he got up.

"Agreed, we'll wait till then, or at least I'll try," she said as she too remembered their day in the country.

"I'll come by and pick you up in the morning and we can walk to the church. Goodnight then," he said kissing her hand.

"Goodnight my love," and she watched him walk down the road to the inn. Pulling the list out of her pocket, she had completed her tasks, including the last and most difficult one. And while the day had been filled with highs and lows, she realized it was how she wanted to live her life, one that was filled with friends and family, and above all else—love.


	27. A Perfect Day for a Surprise

_Been away from my computer, but managed to pick up our lovers where they left off. Comments and reviews are always a pleasure to read. Enjoy!_

* * *

AGAINST ALL ODDS

Chapter 27 – A Perfect Day for a Surprise

Sybil waited in the garden of Crawley house for Branson. It was—as they say—a perfect day for a wedding. The sun shone brightly, the sky was a vivid blue, and streaks of white slowly crept across the noontime sky. The joyful event, she thought, would counterbalance the stressful incidents with her family the day before.

Perhaps once her parents considered the merits of her impending marriage and the rationales for keeping it secret, then they will come around. Cora and Robert were both reasonable people. She knew deep down they loved her and would see shortly them at Anna and Mr. Bates wedding. But she did not know if their sense of betrayal and their dismay at her defiance of familial duty and social class would override their capacity to forgive. Alas, only time would reveal the answer.

Sitting beneath a trellis of roses, she leaned back on the bench with her face looking toward the sky, eyes closed, absorbing the soothing warmth of the sun. She took in a deep breath to inhale the sweetness of the rose scent wafting through the summer air.

"Could there be a more lovely sight," she heard a familiar voice as she slowly opened her eyes to see Branson standing at the edge of the garden. He came toward her, bent down, and kissed her lips. "Did you have a good morning?"

"I did. I went for a walk by the river. I am looking forward to seeing Anna and Mr. Bates happy and together at last."

"And soon we will be too," Branson offered his hand to help her stand. She was wearing a lavender and white stripped cotton dress that fell just below her knees.

"I do realize perhaps we should have been more forthcoming with them. They feel betrayed in some way. I hope they can forgive us. And what will my grandmother say I certainly never meant to hurt her. I suspect she's going to be livid. I'm not looking forward to that confrontation," she wondered aloud.

"Remember Sybil we had our reasons. And they were good ones. If anything we've been very realistic about why falling in love and getting married would be next to impossible. It didn't happen overnight and we've taken our time," he said to her. "We can't change the past, but we can make the future—and that's what we'll do. Now we've a wedding to go to," he said offering his arm. And the two walked from the garden down the road to the church.

* * *

They arrived at the small village church and strolled into the sanctuary arm-in-arm. She could see the backs of her parents who were already sitting in the front row in the family's customary pew. Mary had also joined them along with her grandmother. She didn't dare sit next to them. Instead they walked midway down the aisle and sat in a pew on the other side. A few familiar faces from the household staff and the village turned around to witness the entrance of the unusual couple—the Lady and the servant. And she could tell as some leaned in to whisper to one another that their relationship had quickly become the idle gossip of the village.

In a few minutes, Mr. Bates, looking distinguished and handsome in a black suit, appeared at the church's alter and shortly thereafter Anna walked down the aisle to meet her future husband accompanied by her father. In her white wedding dress, the bride beamed. Sybil noticed that Anna wore the cameo she had given her two years ago for Christmas. She was also pleased that the girl who'd she first known as a housemaid had grown into an extraordinary self-determined woman who had set her heart on a man of impeccable character. Their perseverance through various professional and personal challenges, including separation over the course of the war and the meddling of Bates' wife, proved for Sybil that love could triumph against all odds.

The exchange of vows ended, husband and wife kissed, and proceeded back down the aisle cheered on by their happy guests. Her parents, sister, and grandmother followed the newly married couple out of the church. Sybil looked their way and smiled, but they deliberately ignored her.

* * *

Everyone joined the newlyweds in the town square for a celebratory lunch, a gracious gift from Lord and Lady Grantham. Colorful lanterns had been placed in the trees. On a table to the side of the square had been placed a lovely wedding cake generously prepared by Mrs. Patmore. And tables and chairs had been placed around the square for guests to sit.

As they waited beneath a tree eager to greet the newly married couple, no one came up to her or Branson. Sybil soon realized that not only had she trampled the sacred border of social class, but so had Branson. Now that everyone knew of their love affair, none of Downton's staff spoke to either of them. Miss O'Brien was particularly chilly in her reception. Thus, Branson too was ostracized because he had dared to break the rules of decorum critical for sustaining the fine tuned order that kept the household working and all of them employed. For the moment amongst this tightly knit social milieu they were both pariahs.

Soon it was their turn to wish Mr. Bates and Anna well. "Congratulations we are very happy for both of you!" Sybil greeted her friend and new husband.

Branson joined her in warmly shaking the hands of his former co-workers.

"Milady, thank you for coming and Branson so happy to see you—soon we'll be celebratin' your wedding," Anna reminded them.

Sybil grinned, "Yes we will, and of course Tom and I want you both to be there!" She looked at Branson happy to finally be able to show and share her love for him in public. She leaned into Anna and asked her, "Please will you call me Sybil from now on, we are old friends, are we not?"

"Of course we're friends mi-, I mean Sybil," Anna gave her a hug.

"Your husband's a good man," Branson told her. "He not only gave some good advice yesterday, but his visit helped to calm a difficult day."

"It was the least I could do for a friend—one who stood by me during all the shenanigans stirred by some in the household, think of it as a returned favor," Mr. Bates cheerfully told Branson.

"Indeed, those were old times and now we are all moving forward to new ones," Branson said taking Sybil's hand. And the two happy couples laughed.

Others came up to congratulate the newlyweds. And hors d'oeuvres prepared by Mrs. Patmore, although she was a guest for the day, were being passed around to the wedding attendees.

Robert and Cora sat in chairs on the other side of the square, but did not make any effort to speak to Sybil and Branson. They were still apparently unwilling to forgive them after yesterday's disastrous announcement.

Eventually Mrs. Hughes and Mr. Carson approached them. "Lady Sybil," Mrs. Hughes greeted her. "Branson," she also nodded. "Its good to finally see these two get married."

"Yes, they've been through a lot, Anna looked very pretty today don't you think?" she asked the mindful head of the household staff.

"She does. She's been a big help to me around the house I'm glad we didn't lose her. And I'm told by his Lordship I've you to thank for her new assignment." Then she whispered, "I'd be the last to admit it but I'm starting to feel my age. So having Anna to assist with my duties has been an enormous help."

"I'm glad it has worked out for everyone. I just thought that Anna and Bates had been loyal servants, and if they could continue to work for the estate in some capacity it would mean that they could be married sooner rather than later. My father finally came around to seeing it from my perspective," Sybil told Mrs. Hughes.

"Yes, his Lordship is a fair man and cares for all of us in his employ. I've worked for him many years, long before you were a thought. He does see the good in everyone." She reached out and placed her hands on Sybil and Branson then said, "So you two don't worry he'll come 'round."

"Thank you, Mrs. Hughes," Sybil and Branson said in unison.

"I second Mrs. Hughes' assessment of the situation, his Lordship will eventually come 'round—it will just take some getting used to—we all will, don't worry," Mr. Carson's bass voice said earnestly. "And I believe the Dowager Countess would like to see you both," he then added.

"Thank you Mr. Carson, we will go over to see her now." Sybil and Branson were pleased that the heads of the household gave them their support, even though their unorthodox relationship could have caused both much grief. Mrs. Hughes and Mr. Carson had been Branson's superiors and always treated him fairly. He had the utmost respect for them and did not intentionally want to cause them difficulties. Except for the few days of Edith's wedding their love affair had taken place far from Downton and as it were outside of their jurisdiction.

* * *

Making their way to the other side of the festivities, Sybil and Branson found the Dowager Countess sitting in a large chair under a tree not far from her parents. She had been brought afternoon tea and was finishing her first cup.

"I see Mr. Carson has relayed my message," Violet said to them in an officious tone.

"Granny, he said you wished to see us." Sybil replied as she stood in front her grandmother bracing for the worst.

"Your Ladyship," Branson nodded dutifully.

"Now I'm told you two are to be married, is there truth in that?" she started her inquiry.

"Yes it is true," Sybil conveyed contritely.

"Then you must know that your father and mother are devastated at the news?" was the matriarch's follow-up question.

"We had to tell them at some point," Sybil replied.

"Yes your Ladyship, we're both sorry, we never meant to upset anyone," Branson respectfully added.

"Well you must know this is highly unusual, daughters of Earls do not usually marry their chauffeurs?" Then she mumbled, "but I do remember when I was young the daughter of Duke of Trevennick running off with a second footman, caused quite a nasty scandal." Then she piped up, "So, why then cause such a bother?"

"We don't mean to cause anyone trouble or unhappiness, I love you all." Then she looked at Branson, "But I also love Tom, he's my future. It hasn't been easy for us. Trust me we've already encountered many obstacles, but we will be married. We just hope you will understand."

"You see," Violet said as she pondered her next comment, "it's always been something of a dilemma what would happen to my granddaughters when they came of age—would they find suitable husbands? After the drama around the inheritance Mary's engaged to Matthew, although she's never quite appreciated that young man's brilliance. Even Edith is married although we'd thought she'd be forever single. Mind you, Sir Anthony is somewhat pretentious, but overall he's a well-suited match for Edith's compliant nature. But you Sybil were always going to be a difficult one to match up. Quite frankly, I didn't like it that Cora was thinking of betrothing you to Sir Anthony's nephew—little weasel didn't even make it to the battlefront," Violet told them.

Branson and Sybil had no clue what was coming next.

"Sybil my dear, I've never told your parents this but I've always secretly admired your courage. Sometimes it's gotten you into a heap of trouble. But its also has led you down a path in life that you, and no one else, have made. This family needs more of that independent can-do spirit. Perhaps, and I'm loathe to admit, it may be the American side of your nature. If your father had been more courageous about the entail, things might have turned out differently for Mary and Matthew. Initially I wasn't too keen on your going to London to become a nurse, but you turned it into something even greater—you've become a doctor. And that's the kind of rules be damned passion that has made this family great."

"Thank you Granny," Sybil replied quite surprised by her grandmother's admission. "Actually I think my independent streak is solely from your side of the family."

"Now about this marriage business. Here's my opinion and as the American's say 'you may take it or leave it.' I think you've chosen wisely Sybil. In all my years of being ferried around Branson here is the only driver—carriage or motorcar—who dared asked me directly about my wellbeing. I'm not that much of an ogre, that I can't be addressed kindly. He always made the effort to make sure I arrived safely and inquired about my health. We had good conversations during our drives did we not?"

"That we did your Ladyship," Branson replied.

"I appreciated your thoughtfulness and caring. And in that regard you are kind man and one who clearly has a keen sense of responsibility, that's all I could ever want for my granddaughter. So you treat her well young man or you'll have me to answer to—is that understood?

"Yes, yes your Ladyship I will!" Branson eagerly reassured Violet utterly shocked by her approval of their engagement.

"Oh Granny, you're the best," Sybil tearfully said as she bent down to hug her grandmother.

"My dear let's not get teary eyed, for god's sake it's a wedding day not a funeral," Violet reminded Sybil.

* * *

"Time to cut the cake," a voice yelled and everyone gathered around for the symbolic wedding ritual. "To the bride and groom," Anna's older brother toasted the happy couple. "Here, here, to the bride and groom," everyone cheered raising a glass to the couple. After the toasts, Lord and Lady Grantham departed for Downton.

It was a boisterous crowd, so soon someone put a record on the Victrola and couples began to dance and sing. Branson went to talk to Mr. Carson who stood reservedly nearby. Sybil wondered if the music brought back memories of the butler's time on the stage and if he missed those days.

"Hello there," Sybil heard from behind.

Matthew had joined the festivities. He noticed Mary standing alone watching the dancers, "Looks like it's been a good day, a change from yesterday's dark clouds? Although Mary doesn't seem very sunny," he asked his cousin.

"Indeed, it was a lovely ceremony. It's been a relief that Tom and I can finally be out in the open about our engagement," Sybil said to her cousin.

"Yes, how's that been so far—family finally warming up?" Matthew asked.

"Well the staff were initially a bit chilly, but Mr. Carson and Mrs. Hughes broke the ice. And if you can believe it Granny gave us her blessing."

"Cousin Violet did what?" Matthew asked in disbelief.

"I couldn't fathom what I was hearing. Her mouth was moving, but I couldn't quite match the words with her voice. But it seems that she had grown quite fond of Tom while he was Downton's chauffeur and approved of him as a suitable husband. Life is full of surprises isn't it?"

"Huh—who would've guessed that one, if only your sister were that perceptive," he said implying that Mary was still angry about yesterday afternoon.

"I'm sorry I didn't mean for your engagement to be collateral damage in the announcement of ours."

"Just when I think things with Mary are finally locked in—her damned contrarian nature gets the best of her."

"Continue to be forgiving and understanding. She's had to battle against so many unrealistic expectations and suffered some major disappointments in the past few years. She sometimes doesn't know when to stop fighting."

"But her comments were completely out of line yesterday. They were cruel and unfair to you. Your future husband is a good chap, anyone can see that, so why can't Mary?"

"Her world's been on shaky ground since you became the heir to Downton. She needs time to see things more clearly. But I am sure she loves you, just reassure her of that and she'll come around."

"You're right, all she needs is continued patience—the strategy has worked thus far. Thank you. Your sister doesn't realize how lucky she is to have you as her biggest booster. Here she is disapproving of your marriage and all you can do is support hers. You are a remarkable woman and Tom's a fortunate man," he said sincerely. "But I must confess—with no disrespect to Tom, I still wonder if I'm engaged to the wrong sister!" he chuckled.

"Oh, I think you've found the right Crawley sister. Anyway I wouldn't be very good at managing Downton the way Mary will be—I'd overpay the staff and make a mess of the entire hierarchy of duties!" Sybil reminded him. "Now, go ask my sister to dance," Sybil suggested.

Matthew walked over to where Mary was standing, said a few words that cut through her ambivalent demeanor, and took her by the hand. Sybil noticed Mary finally smiling as she danced in her fiancé's arms.

* * *

"Match-making again," Branson inquired returning to Sybil's side.

"Trying to repair the damage from yesterday."

"Looks like its working. Your sister seems happy to be with Matthew," Branson observed.

"I still can't get my head around Granny's support. She's not one to be easily charmed, but somehow you burrowed under her armored exterior," Sybil told him.

"Oh her Ladyship can be a bit tough. But most times I just asked about her health and shared with her my grandmother's ole Irish remedies. Guess we hit it off so to speak. Who knew it'd come in handy someday?"

"Your easy nature is one of the things I adore about you," she leaned her head on his should as they watched the couples dancing. Next someone put "Roses of Picardy" on the Victrola.

Branson turned "Sybil Crawley, may I have this dance?"

"Tom Branson I'd be delighted," she agreed taking his hand. And they walked over to where everyone, including the children, was dancing.

They had never actually danced together, so Sybil finally got to see what his sister Mary had teased him about. They turned gracefully to the tunes of the ballad. Both laughed at the ease of their movement.

"You are quite a good dancer, your sister was right," she smiled him.

"You make it so easy my love," he said. The music finally stopped, but they continued dancing lost pleasure of being in each other's arms. Sybil leaned in and whispered something in Branson's ear. He said audibly "Yes, we'll do it then," and kissed her passionately.

A bit embarrassed, they finally realized song had ended. The newlyweds Anna and John began to clap at the joyous display of affection of their friends, as did others amongst the crowd—including Violet, Matthew, and at last Mary.


	28. A Beautiful Shade of Blue

_A new place for our lovers. Warning: its summertime so it's a steamy chapter. Thoughts and comments always a pleasure to read. Enjoy!_

* * *

AGAINST ALL ODDS

Chapter 28 – A Beautiful Shade of Blue

At first she thought it was night, but the sliver of sun through the curtains reminded her she had taken at brief nap. 'Where could they be?' Sybil wondered as she slowly awakened. She stared at the streak of light as it cut across the blue wall of the bedroom. Calmed by the soothing cerulean hue, her mind drifted to the events of the past few months.

* * *

Finding this little house had required perseverance and resourcefulness as she and Branson set out to find a place of their own. They first found their way to a Mr. M. Acton-Bond a tall lean man of about fifty with a thick mustache who managed a large building of flats near Battersea Park. It was a massive structure with many residences stacked upon one another punctuated by three large courtyards.

"Good afternoon," Mr. Acton-Bond formally greeted the couple in one of the courtyards. "Please allow me to show you the flat we have available."

They climbed the stairs to the fourth floor. Mr. Acton-Bond efficiently toured them through the flat that contained ample formal rooms and three large bedrooms, along with a maid's room. The rooms were commodious with Queen Anne detailing around the fireplaces and electric light throughout the flat.

As she looked around the room it was vastly different in character and scale from the ancient country estate where she had grown up "this is very lovely," she remarked. "Who might the neighbors be?" Sybil inquired to Mr. Acton-Bond.

"Ah yes, our the residents take pride in living here. There couldn't be a more prestigious address in all of London. We have residents of the finest character," he boasted. "This building is home to barristers, bankers, and a few officers, of course with their fine families. And where might you both hail from?"

"Um…" Sybil hesitated.

Branson spoke up, "Miss…Sybil is from Yorkshire and I grew up in Belfast sir."

"Yes," he replied raising an eyebrow to Branson's statement. "I see then," he added, as his demeanor seemed to grow suddenly frosty. "Shall we?" he said as he escorted the couple out of the flat.

"Well?" Branson whispered to Sybil as they walked back down the stairs.

"I like it well enough, however, it seems very expensive for us and we don't need a room for a maid. Let's talk about it," she replied.

"I suppose others are lookin' at this one, can you let us know if we're a good fit?" Branson asked Mr. Acton-Bond as they stood in the courtyard.

"Please accept my apologies if I did not make myself clear, this flat has been let. You should contact us in the future to see if others come available. But I should warn you it won't be anytime soon. Thank you for your interest in Pemberley Mansions." And he abruptly turned and left them in the courtyard.

"That was quite odd, how could it not be available?" Sybil asked confused by the sudden shift in his address.

"I noticed a change after he heard where we came from," Branson said.

As they exited the courtyard, they noticed a young maid heading toward the service stairs. They stopped her to inquire about when the flat had been let. Pam was her name and far as she knew the flat they saw had been available for more than two months. Only a few people had seen it, but no one had taken it. "That's odd, Mr. Acton-Bond told us it wasn't available," Branson said to the young maid.

"Ah, do I detect the voice of an Irishman?" asked the young maid. "Me pa was from Dublin, but I'm from Manchester."

"Belfast's my home," he said warmed by her sense of kinship.

"It's a shame though Mr. Cook won't let ta any Irish—tis his way I'm afraid. I'm sorry 'bout the bad luck, but hope ya find somethin'."

"Thank you for telling us, Pam is it?" Sybil said as the young girl trotted off to finish her duties. "One more hurdle of many to overcome," Sybil sighed.

"Guess the world's not caught up to us yet. We'll find something my love, just have to keep looking," Branson comforted her.

And look they did for three more days, but still had no luck in finding a place. Either it was too expensive, too far away, too small, or too large, till finally they saw an advertisement for a house in northern Maida Vale.

It was a modest two-story brick house along a street lined with similar homes. "Where is it," Sybil asked as they walked down the street, "oh, here it is #59."

Branson knocked and a plump middle-aged woman answered the door. "May I help you folks, need help do you?"

"Yes we are here to see the house for rent?" Sybil told the matron.

"Oh yes of course. I'm Mrs. Hall the agent for the owner."

"Sybil Crawley," Sybil reached out to shake her hand.

"Mr. and Mrs. Crawley is it then. Mrs. Fitzsimmons wants to find a good decent couple to let the place. Perfect place for children, you two seem to fit the bill. Have any children do you?" She asked Sybil.

"No…not yet," she smiled at Branson. Mrs. Hall seemed quite the busybody who had the curious habit of repeating herself. Sybil realized she should prepare for an inquisition as they were shown around the house.

"Ah that's soon to happen—its a good house and good neighborhood for children. May I inquire what you do Mr. Crawley?" Mrs. Hall asked as she walked them into the sitting room whose faded burgundy wallpaper gave the house a somber feel.

Branson replied deciding to play along with Mrs. Hall's gaff, "I work for a motorcar manufacturer and Sybil is a doctor." She next took them upstairs to see the bedrooms.

"Oh that's an unusual profession, not too many woman doctors about. Well there aren't too many doctors about in general if you ask my opinion. Every now and then my leg gives me such trouble. These stairs are no good when you start to get old mind you, when your leg is bothersome…" she prattled on as she took them through the tiny upper bedrooms.

Now let me show you the kitchen and the rear yard," as they walked downstairs to the back of the house. "Kitchen's got a large gas stove for the missus here to do the cooking and the coal bin's in the back," she pointed out as she led them out into a barren yard. "And the yard could use some tending, previous tenants didn't do much to keep a garden back here. Now mind you it does get plenty of light so you could plant anything that suits your tastes." Mrs. Hall took a breath and then inquired "do you garden Mrs. Crawley?"

"No, but my mother does, she's very accomplished. I would like to try my hand at it," Sybil said noticing that Mrs. Hall glanced down at her hands.

"You two recently married are you? Notice Mrs. Crawley here hasn't got a band on her finger." Mrs. Hall pried.

"Mrs. Hall," Sybil began "We aren't married yet."

"What do you mean by 'not yet'? Not possible, certainly not possible if you want to live here. So why are you two looking to let this house? You couldn't possibly be moving in together, not together?" she gasped.

"Well yes, we are. We are to be married soon enough." Sybil replied forthrightly.

"Oh, dear. Mrs. Fitzsimmons could never have that. Oh no, absolutely not. That's sinful and she's a good Christian woman, from a good Christian family. No she wouldn't take to sinners letting the house, absolutely not." she admonished them as she rushed Sybil and Branson back through the house and out the front door. Slam!

"C'mon. Let's stop for something to eat," Branson said as they turned the corner onto the high street and entered a local eatery.

Once their food arrived Sybil posed in utter frustration "Will we ever find something suitable to let? We've done everything on our own terms, but are we crazy to do this—it seems so right, but we keep hitting walls everywhere we turn."

"Don't give up or give in, we'll find the right place," Branson tried to reassure her taking her hand. He noticed that the man sitting behind Sybil had finished his meal and paid his bill. The man then stood up and came over to their table.

"Pardon me, didn't mean to eavesdrop, but I heard that you were looking for a place to let?" asked the man dressed in light colored suit.

"We are, in truth gettin' a bit desperate—d'you know of something?" Branson inquired.

"I do. In fact it's the adjoining cottage to mine. We live not too far, just a ways from here. If you have time I'd be delighted to show you after you finish your meal," he told them.

Sybil looked at Branson and could tell he was keen so she replied, "Perfect let's do that and you can tell us about it while we eat. My name is Sybil Crawley."

"Tom Branson, please to meet you," Branson held out his hand. The prospect of a cottage sounded perfect and both were eager to see it.

"I'm Stokes. Jeremy's my first name. Former captain in Grenadier Guards, but now happily commanding only a brush as a painter of landscapes and portraiture—delighted to meet you both." They noticed their new acquaintance walked with a limp as he went to get a chair to pull up to their table. He had a prosthetic leg and surmised it must have been some sort of war injury.

Once done with their lunch, the three walked about half an hour south eventually turning down a narrow lane shaded by large plane trees. They came to a small brick house with a sharp sloping roof that had a twin on the adjacent plot. "That's our house over there" he pointed out, "and this one we wish to let an interesting couple or person," Jeremy told them as he turned the key to open the front door.

Sybil and Branson stepped in and knew instantly that this was the place they wished to call home. It reminded her of the interior of the Branson's family's farmhouse with wooden beams across the ceiling and a large rustic hearth in the main room. Electricity had been put in last year. All of the other rooms were similarly cozy, and bathed with summer light. The upstairs had three ample bedrooms, with a large one that had a window seat that looked onto the garden and faced south.

Best of all was the explosion of plants, trees and flowers in the rear of the house. It looked like the engravings of some far away land that Sybil remembered from her childhood books. There were carpets of multicolored flowers, shrubbery, and tall trees (some fruit bearing) that formed a series of outdoor rooms. Its lush environs seemed to join to the yard next door.

"If it's to your liking both cottages share the garden. My wife Imogene has a way with a spade, so I'm afraid she's overdone it a bit this year. We've two children, so hope you don't mind the sound of little voices scampering about on occasion?"

"Not at all, its wonderful, its magical," Sybil took a deep breath as she stepped out and into the colorful fragrant garden. "I envy her talents."

"My wife's also an artist, for her the garden enables her to sculpt with living things. Every year a new palette, every month something different sprouts from the ground back here," Jeremy informed them. "Oh and there is my wife now."

A woman donning loose fitting cotton pants under a long flowing tunic and a turban wrapping her head came over to greet the visitors; she carried a little red-headed boy on her hip.

"Thinking about this place are you? It's a treasure and needs someone special to care for it. This is Henry, I'm Imogene Stokes and when it suits my mood the master gardener around here, pleasure to meet you both," she welcomed the visitors and the little boy held out his hand.

The four became acquainted as Imogene and Jeremy answered questions about house and the neighborhood. Henry seemed instantly taken with Branson and the little boy played with his hand as they talked. The Stokes as they found out were part of a community of artists and writers that had settled into this part of the city.

"Will you excuse us for a moment," Branson said to them taking Sybil to the side. "What d'ya think?"

"I think we should take it—if we can afford it mind you," Sybil replied. They walked back to where Jeremy and Imogene were standing.

"We like it, in fact she loves it. But only if its within our budget," Branson said. They heard the particulars of the lease and found it reasonable. They shook hands to close the deal. Their new neighbors welcomed Sybil and Branson next door for a cup of tea.

* * *

Sybil discovered if she opened all the windows from front to back she could draw a breeze from the warm August air. She had already spent two weeks moving into their new house. She had much to do. Finding furniture, having the walls painted or wallpapered, getting the kitchen in shape—for the first time much of it was her responsibility since Branson had gone away for week to Belfast to see his family and collect his belongings. Her work with Dr. McNeil would commence in another three weeks, so she needed to get their house in order very quickly.

She had moved into the cottage full-time a week ago after bidding her Aunt Rosamond good-bye. While sad to leave Belgrave Square—her home for several years—she was also happy to finally transition to a completely new phase in her life. It was the first time ever she had lived somewhere on her own and by herself. Here in north London no one would address her as "Lady Sybil." No one was around to open the door for her, lay out her clothes, or cook and serve her meals. She was no longer the beneficiary of privilege, but survived by her own ability to earn a living. It was a hard fought quest for independence, but she had ultimately won the battle and found love in the process.

She did regret, however, that she had alienated her parents and had had no contact with the family since departing Downton a month ago. But today whenever her thoughts drifted to her family, she countered the melancholy by remembering that Branson would be returning in the late afternoon. His patience and optimism always made her see the possibilities in the world—which included the hope that her parents would eventually come around.

When she heard the doorknob turn, she eagerly went to the door to greet him. "There you are—I've missed you," she said running into his arms as he crossed the threshold. Before he could get out a word she showered him with kisses. "Welcome home!" she exclaimed.

"I can't tell you what it means to hear those words 'welcome home,'" he grinned and kissed her on the nose. "From the looks of things you've been busy," he said walking into the main room and dropping his bags. "It's gone alright then?"

"Yes, I've been able to find most things we need and they've been delivered. Jeremy and Imogene have been helpful when I needed a pair of extra hands. It's been good to be busy. And you'd be surprised I've been quite frugal with your advance and my savings, so we still have little leftover," Sybil said showing him what she had done with the house thus far.

"And do I smell something from the kitchen," he asked noticing a savory smell in the air.

"Oh yes," Sybil confirmed as she darted off to the rear of the house "its our dinner…"

To celebrate the first meal in their own home, Sybil decided to prepare something Mrs. Patmore would make when it was just she and her sisters for dinner. Downton's cook would let Sybil watch the preparations since Lord and Lady Grantham were away and couldn't object to her presence down below. Successful in her recollection of the recipe, Sybil served the pot roast of pork and red cabbage to a very hungry Branson who had had little eat on his ferry and train ride.

As they talked over dinner, Branson sent greetings from his family. His mother was greatly improved and she was able to take care of twins and Brian again. Mary sent Sybil a special "thank you" for helping her get into a special school for young nurses at the women's hospital. Sybil told him about the week's events, that their new neighbors had her over for dinner twice, and about her budding friendship with Imogene, who turned out to be a well-known figure in the suffrage movement, which was beginning to pick up steam again.

Branson was duly impressed with Sybil's cooking and appreciated even more her efforts to learn those things her upbringing had denied. He helped clear the plates and clean up the kitchen. She too was impressed by his willingness to help with so-called "women's work," but he reminded her that as the oldest of six he had many chores in a household where his mother worked long hours.

It was late in the evening and the setting sun cast a warm pinkish light through the kitchen's large windows. As she finished putting away the cleaned pots he came up behind her and kissed her neck. "Thank you my dearest friend for that hearty meal. When Mrs. Patmore would send leftovers from the staff's dinner 'round the cottage—this was always my favorite. I shouldn't 've doubted your cooking skills—like everything, you do it with gusto."

"See I can cook more than tea and toast. And you're welcome my love, I thought you might be hungry when you arrived."

"Listen, I know the past month must've been difficult after the fallin' out with your family, but I hope you've been happy here?" he inquired as his arms squeezed her waist.

"It has been quiet, a different kind of peacefulness. I can't quite describe it, but Downton is always filled with people—family in every room, visitors in and out, all of the staff scurrying about. You learn very early on not to see or hear them. It sounds cruel I know. But this kind of invisibility I think it's why class becomes such a problem in this country," she said. She then around turned to face him. "It's been hard work putting this house together, but I've seen the fruits of my own labor and I have to say it's gratifying. So yes, I am very happy here, especially now that you are home," she said smiling at her lover and stroking his cheek.

He took a deep breath. "This light becomes you, you know," he said as he gazed into her eyes taking in her soft pale skin and raven hair. Slowly he drew her lips to his and kissed her gently at first. Sybil's hands crept around his waist as she explored his mouth. She breathed in his scent as her desire for him began to grow. Breathing heavily he suddenly stopped, took her by the hand up the stairs, and to their bedroom.

He opened the door. She walked in first. In the light of the setting sun the room glowed a beautiful shade of blue. Branson was taken by surprise.

"Are you pleased? I had them paint it close to the color of our room at the inn in Boulogne. Jeremy helped pick it out—its called cerulean blue. I remember you said you found it calming and it reminded you of floating in the ocean. I wanted this to be our place of calm, our refuge. Well," she scrunched up her shoulders, "what do you think?"

"You did it for me? Then I'm pleased, very much so," he said as he looked around their bedroom. They had found the bed before he left for Ireland and Sybil had hung beautiful flowered curtains over the windows and placed two large chairs covered in green that filled out the space.

"Best of all—its all ours!" Branson said as he scooped her up and laid her on the bed. He unbuttoned and took off her shoes and climbed on top of her, "finally ours alone." He kissed her passionately. Sybil found immense joy in the intensity of this moment. Both felt there was little to say—their long simmering desire for one another said it all. And finally there was nothing to hold them back, they were alone in a space all their own.

Sybil began to unbutton Branson's shirt as his body pressed against hers. He shimmied out of his shirt as he continued to explore the pleasure of her kisses. He sat up to help her undress. First pulling her shift above her head to reveal her undergarments. He leaned over and kissed her shoulders as her hands massaged the solidity of his chest. He unhooked and removed her brassiere. She took off her stockings and the rest of her underclothes. He leaned Sybil onto her back and gently kissed her breasts, then moving down her stomach. "Ahh," she gasped as his lips found her sensual core. Her fingers ran through his soft hair. She had dreamt of such pleasure, but his actions took her to a realm that she could not have imagined. The intensity built as she eventually reached a plateau, arched her back, and let out a shivering cry of utter joy.

He emerged on top of her as she helped to remove his pants. He rolled over and pulled her on top to straddle him. She slowly eased onto him and he groaned at the pleasure it gave them both. This time she was in command and slowly moved her hips to test his response. They stared intently at one another watching the gratification it gave them both. In the warm summer night, the sweat beginning to bead on both their bodies from the physical play made the contact of skin upon skin electric. She grasped his muscular shoulders as she found a rhythm they both enjoyed. She climaxed again as his hands firmly guided her hips. A few more intense thrusts, he too reached his pinnacle and exclaimed loudly the bliss he found in their lovemaking. Both collapsed onto the bed, spent from their rapturous engagement.

Branson put his arm around Sybil and kissed her forehead. "Know I love you and will always be here for you," he said.

"And I you," she smiled feeling the faint beat of his heart as she laid her head on his chest. She drifted off to sleep. In her dreams she found herself again on the beach playing with a young boy named Tom who raced the incoming waves of a deep blue ocean.

* * *

Sybil smiled and felt warm inside as she remembered that first night in their new home. That happened almost four months ago and the winter's noontime light cast a different tonality on the bedroom's blue walls. 'Where could they be?' she again thought to herself as she stretched.

Just then she heard a knock and a voice. "Sybil wake up, hope you are feeling better," said Louisa as she walked into the room. "Maybe its butterflies in your stomach."

"We've finished ironing your gown," Anna piped up as she came in on the heels of Louisa. She smiled endearingly at her friend, "its time now to get ready for your weddin'."


	29. Beginnings and Endings

_This story is finally winding down, one to go YAY. Love to hear what you think about how it should end, so comments and reviews are welcome. Enjoy!_

* * *

AGAINST ALL ODDS

Chapter 29 – Beginnings and Endings

The large stained glass window cast a kaleidoscope of colors into the room where Sybil waited.

"Ah now there you are," said Louisa as she pinned Sybil's veil in place. "You look like a real Lady as Queen McBride once said." And the two friends chuckled at their old nemesis on the ward. "I'll check on a few things and come back," Louisa told her.

"Thank you," Sybil told her friend.

After Louisa and Anna helped Sybil put on her wedding dress, Jeremy had driven them to the church not too far from the cottage. Sybil finished getting ready in a side room off the entrance to the sanctuary. The ceremony would begin in about an hour. Louisa's "butterflies in her stomach" couldn't begin to describe her state of nervousness, but it was only calmed by the joy she felt that finally she and Branson would finally be wed.

The four months of settling into their cottage had been quite busy and Sybil had little time to reflect on the consequences of her decision to leave Downton for good. She had heard little from her family since she bid her Aunt Rosamond good-bye in August. She decided not to tell her family where she had moved. She did however send her address to Matthew asking him to contact her if there were any family emergencies. Otherwise she requested he keep where she now lived a secret. Her family would have strongly disapproved of her current living arrangement. However she no longer travelled in their social circles, so she suspected that little was known about her life and what she did with it that would have been cause for embarrassment. Likewise, they were far from Ireland and Branson's family, so the two crafted a world that was their own and included their new friends Jeremy and Imogene along with old friends she knew from her days as a nurse—Dr. McNeil and Louisa.

Since Sybil was estranged from her father, she asked Dr. McNeil to walk her down the aisle. She awaited his appearance. They would be married in this lovely church, with its quaint arts and crafts interior. It was a suggestion made by her mentor who had become a good friend of both her and Branson. The doctor came for dinner at least once a month where they enjoyed long discussions about politics, history, and news of the day. As she waited she recalled the eventful day in November that Arthur had recommended that hold the ceremony at this particular church.

* * *

It was a Sunday afternoon and Sybil sat in their main room reading on the sofa warmed by the fire. Branson had joined Jeremy on an errand and would not return till later in the day. She enjoyed the peacefulness after a busy week in the laboratory and her various duties around the hospital.

The ring of the doorbell startled her and she rose to answer it. Last week Louisa and Lottie came for tea, but today she was not expecting anyone. When she opened the door to her surprise there stood her sister. "Mary!" she exclaimed taken aback at the appearance of her older sister in this part of London.

"Don't look as if you've seen a ghost. It's not been that long dear sister," Mary greeted her little sister.

"I just wasn't expecting anyone," Sybil replied, still trying to comprehend the appearance of a family member four months after she had informed the family about her engagement to their former chauffeur.

"Might I come in?" Mary inquired eager to get out of the brisk fall afternoon.

"Oh, so sorry, I don't mean to be rude. Please, please do come in," Sybil gestured her sister into the house. "How are you?" Mary was dressed in a dark green wool coat and wore a light green dress that fell below her knees. Her black hat tastefully sat askance on her upswept hair, her sister observed. Mary always carried her patrician pedigree with great elegance—she will be a fitting Lady Grantham Sybil thought. "What brings you here, how ever did you find me?" she then asked trying to discern the reason for her sister's unexpected visit.

"Papa needed someone to take papers to his solicitor in London and check-in on Grantham house. I volunteered since I wanted to get a new dress made for the holidays and it was a chance to escape the dreary days of the Yorkshire fall. With no hunts since the start of the war, November at Downton has been quite dull. Please don't be angry I tricked Matthew into telling me how to find you—I surmised he would be the one person who would know where you were living," Mary replied as she looked around the large main room.

"I knew someone would eventually figure it out," Sybil replied as she and her sister sat down in the sunny main room.

"Hmm, so this is where you've fled to. It's a long way from Downton. Seems quite…um lived in I supposed. Lovely painting, a very unique style," Mary commented as she noticed the large canvas over the hearth.

"Yes, its by our neighbor Jeremy, a gift to welcome us to the house. He likes to abstract the colors and geometries he sees in the garden behind the cottage. There's not much back there now otherwise I'd show you. But we find it quite a comfortable little house. Tom and I are very happy here," Sybil told Mary not sure what to expect from her sister given her vehement disapproval of her forthcoming marriage.

"So you've married him already have you? Well I suppose after that major battle with our parents why wait?" Mary asked.

"No we are not married, but soon." Sybil clarified to her sister, awaiting another series of curt disapprovals, but none came.

"Oh," was Mary's only response as she looked around the room. "How are managing? Have you found a good cook and housemaid out here?" she then asked.

"I'm learning as I go along. My neighbor Imogene has been very helpful. She must have thought it very curious that I had so many questions about how do things around the household. But to answer your question, I take care most of the chores around here—the cooking and keeping the place tidy. Tom helps with some. And Imogene shares her housekeeper with me once a week, so I confess I don't do it all," she proudly informed her sister.

"You cook and clean? Huh, how progressive. But don't you find it, I don't know how else to say this, but beneath you? After all you aren't the daughter of an accountant from Bromley, and even then one would at least have a live-in maid," she asked sincerely baffled by her sister's new regime.

"Its work, especially after a busy day with Dr. McNeil and seeing patients. But I don't mind. It may not be how I was raised or what was expected of me, but I like determining these details in my life. I find it sort of invigorating," Sybil told Mary. "How is, how is everyone at Downton?" Sybil asked hesitantly.

"Same as ever. Our parents are well. With no more daughters to find husbands, Mama continues with her charity work to keep busy. Papa's immersion in estate affairs seems to have rid himself of his dour mood from the summer," Mary informed her and noticed Sybil looked down at the mention of their father, she did not realize how the latter would affect her younger sister.

"And Cousin Isobel and Matthew?" Sybil asked not wanting to talk further about her parents.

"They are well and send their regards. Its about Matthew I wanted to see you," she then told Sybil.

"What about Matthew?"

"To begin, I believe I owe you an apology for my rude outbursts last summer. And I also owe you my gratitude for keeping my engagement with Matthew on course. That is why I coerced your address from him. He told me how supportive you were of me while I foolishly wavered in my commitment to him. I do love him you know, it's just been difficult to sort out my emotions these past five years."

"Yes I assured him of your love and simply asked him to be patient."

Mary smiled at her little sister and then said, "You know I envy you and admire your courage. You've chosen who you want to marry and how you want to live your life."

"But it seems in doing so I've hurt the people I care about the most," Sybil reminded her sister.

"Maybe, but you have managed to escape the mountain of expectations heaped upon us as little girls. Look at what that competition to find a husband did to my and Edith's relationship?"

"I am glad that you and Edith mended fences by the time she married Sir Anthony."

"But my behavior before then and after with you was reprehensible. I'm mortified at who I was then," Mary confessed. "I grew up knowing that Downton should be mine—I was the oldest and quite rightly the next in line. But having to concede that the only way I would have it is through whom I would marry, bred resentment; an anger made worst by knowing that who that husband would be was not going to be my choice. Poor Matthew bore the brunt of that fury. I felt everyone was making decisions about my life except me," she said earnestly.

"As the oldest, you had the most difficult position of us three sisters. By birth order no one paid attention to me, in some ways I did have the most latitude to get out from under it all."

"But I've finally realized my good fortune and I'm glad Matthew stayed committed no matter how indecisive I was. You know he stands his ground against me, I appreciate that and he sincerely cares for me—I couldn't ask for more in a future husband. And I end up with Downton in the bargain."

"I thought you simply had to realize how lucky you were to have Matthew," Sybil said glad to see her sister had overcome being her own worst enemy.

"You saw the best in me and I'm grateful for it."

"You are my sister and I love you."

"And I repaid you for your loyalty by disparaging your own choice to wed the man you love. How cruel I was and I'm sorry for that," Mary said beginning to cry, a very unusual display for her otherwise steely sister. Sybil came over and sat next to Mary on the sofa and put her arms around her.

"It's the past and we are both moving forward," she said. Changing the topic Sybil asked her sister, "how about I make a pot of tea for us."

"Yes," Mary said drying her tears, "I'd like that very much. I couldn't boil water no matter how hard I tried."

Mary joined her sister in the kitchen as Sybil prepared tea. As the water boiled, she heard Branson and Jeremy return.

"Sybil, where are you; we've great news. Sybil?" she heard Branson say as he came in the main room.

"Excuse me, Tom has a habit of losing things, let me go see what is happening," she said as she left Mary at the table in the kitchen.

"What's the matter?" she asked as she walked into the room. "Jeremy," Sybil greeted her friend.

"You won't believe this my love, but we've heard the war is over—they'll announce it tomorrow! The guns have finally stopped," Branson said picking her up and spinning her around.

"Isn't it remarkable. I lost so much to this blasted war and now it's finally over. I'd better go tell Imogene the news," Jeremy happily told them as he left for next door.

"Its really over!" she said trying absorb the impact. "We had heard news from the lads in the ward that the Germans were withdrawing, but I thought it was to just regroup. They've really surrendered?"

"That's what we've heard from a friend of Jeremy's who was an officer with connections to the War Office."

Just then Mary emerged from the kitchen.

"Did I hear correctly, the war is over, can that be true?" Mary asked.

"Lady Mary?" Branson said surprised to see her there.

"Yes, the war has ended!" Sybil told her sister and then she said to Branson, "Mary was in London for a few days and decided to stop by for a visit."

"That's wonderful news! Father will be pleased," Mary said happy at the news.

"Let's celebrate. Arthur's coming for dinner anyway; let's invite the Stokes. We've all suffered through this conflict—its time to have something good come out of it," he asked Sybil.

"A grand idea," Sybil agreed. "I cooked a large roast we have plenty for everyone."

"Would you join us Lady Mary?" Branson extended an invitation to Sybil's sister.

"Well, I had planned," she started to make excuses, but then decided, "I'd be delighted. And please call me Mary," she replied.

"Good then. It'll be a fittin' celebration," he said as he kissed Sybil on her forehead and happy to welcome her sister into their home.

* * *

Sybil introduced Mary to Imogene and Jeremy. She had already met Dr. McNeil at Edith's wedding. Everyone seemed to be overjoyed by the news of the war's end. All had been touched by it in some profound way and it was both a moment of personal and collective healing. The group sat around the dining table and feasted on Sybil's dinner. After she cleared the plates all shared a glass of brandy. It was vastly less formal than the dinners at Downton and Sybil could tell that Mary was slowly warming up to her new way of life.

"So now with the war almost over at last, its time to move on to the important things in life like love and marriage," Dr. McNeil said raising a glass to his hosts, "so when will you two be getting married?"

"Well it's to be in December but we haven't figured out where. As with every aspect of our courtship it won't be easy finding a church. I was raised Protestant and Tom Catholic, so now what to do?" Sybil told her friend and mentor.

"Hmm, that's is a tough quandary," the doctor replied.

"I know of a monk who could advise you through the rituals of a Hindu wedding," said Imogene always keen on interjecting unusual options into the conversation.

"A Hindu wedding? That would be unconventional, imagine my wearing beautiful sari in purple?" Sybil giggled as she sipped her brandy.

"If Granny got wind of that it would be the death of her, you'd be better off moving to America to join a circus act," Mary chimed in.

"I know there's a lovely Unitarian church nearby. Perhaps that would be a happy middle ground for the ceremony? Its worth taking a look—the reverend is a decent fellow, he's a good chap from school days—studied philosophy and theology," Dr. McNeil suggested.

"Good idea. We'll take a look then," Branson said look at Sybil for agreement.

"Yes, we need to get moving since our wedding day its fast approaching, this is an excellent suggestion," Sybil affirmed.

After they bid their guests goodnight, Branson and Sybil finished cleaning up after their celebratory meal. With everything put away, the two sat quietly together in front of the fireplace in the main room. The clock struck midnight.

"Today the war ended, I can't believe it," he said staring intently at the fire.

"I know I've been thinking of all those men, many of them just boys I watched come into the wards with wounds of all kinds, only to be patched up and sent out to die for King and Country. And then all the young men I met my first season—tragically cut down before they'd even lived. Poor Claudy what fun we had," she replied in a somber tone remembering her friends.

"Did anything good come out of it? Did anything really change? I haven't been haunted by my days in the trenches. These happy few months with you have made those times feel worlds away. Though, the smell of gunpowder and burned flesh are somewhere still in my mind. I try not to think about it, but every now and then it creeps back and I remember. The men I saw cut down in an instant as we moved the battle line a few feet only to be pushed back the next day. The bullets I fired did the same to them. It was such a waste of life, a waste of everything," Branson said with a remoteness in his voice she hadn't heard in a long time. "At least those fields will finally be covered with living things rather than dead and dying things. And like that, it's over, thank God."

"You saw horrific things that no one should ever witness, I'm sorry for that. But you survived being wounded. You made it through a horrible bout with influenza and God knows what else. I'm so grateful that you are here with me now. Just know I'm here for you, whenever you need me," she tenderly kissed his lips.

Putting his arm around Sybil, he took a deep breath and then said, "We've had a day of surprises, haven't we?" Branson said.

"Indeed, can you imagine my face when I opened the door to see Mary standing there," she replied staring into the flickering flames.

"Why'd she come here?"

"To thank me for helping her with Matthew and apologize for not supporting our marriage. I think she's changed somehow. She's finally stopped rebelling and realized she does have everything she ever wanted," Sybil said as her hand reached into his shirt to slowly massage his chest.

"Well at least that's one member of your family on our side," he said. Turning her face toward his he then asked her, "are you comfortable with not having your family at our wedding. Do you want to try again?"

"What I want is to be Mrs. Branson. All I'm asking is for their acceptance, nothing more," she smiled up at him. But I will send them an invitation and if they decide to come then I will be happy. I'm hoping all your family will be there—your mother, sisters, and brothers. And mine will just have to get used to us. Besides, I don't want to wait anymore; we've already waited too long. And now we can be married after the guns stopped as planned when you first proposed," she told him.

"We will and very soon, let's stop 'round the church next Saturday," he said as he took her hand, kissed it, and joined it with his. They quietly watched the fire as it burned down into embers.

* * *

"So dear sister are you ready?" Mary said as she entered the side room wearing a beautiful cream colored dressed.

"I am. Thank you for agreeing to be my bridesmaid. I'm glad that Matthew and Isobel have come. At least part of the family is here," Sybil told her sister as she stood up to take one last look in the mirror.

"You look absolutely stunning," Mary said as she put her hands on her little sister's shoulders and gave her a hug as both gazed in the mirror. Sybil had selected a simple off-white dress with a sheer silk jacket that formed a train in back. They heard a knock at the door.

"That'll be Arthur," Sybil took a deep breath. "I'm ready, come in," she bid him.

"Sybil, there is someone here to see you," Dr. McNeil said as he opened the door and in stepped Robert.

"Papa!"


	30. Supremely True

_It's a wrap! Enjoy!_

* * *

AGAINST ALL ODDS

Chapter 30 – Supremely True

"Sybil, hello." Robert replied reservedly as he stepped into the room. "I must say, in that ethereal dress you look like an absolute angel," he complemented his daughter.

"You came. You received our invitation? But why didn't you let me know, I would have…" Sybil asked her father whom she hadn't seen since that fateful summer day in Downton's library.

Before she could finish the sentence her father told her, "Your mother kept the invitation secret. I didn't know today was your wedding day until this morning. It was at Mary and Edith's insistence I come, they said something about owing you a Christmas gift."

Sybil remembered her Christmas scheme three years ago that had reunited her sisters with their loves. "Yes, that was a longtime ago," was all she could muster, not sure of the motives of her father's surprise appearance.

Robert then revealed, "Your mother and grandmother insisted we have Christmas this year at Grantham House. We came down yesterday. I thought we were attending one of your mother's charitable events this afternoon, so initially I had no idea. But this morning they told me you were to be married today. I believe the women in this family have rallied to your cause. I thought I should…no I couldn't let you marry without seeing you first."

"Papa, I'm sorry to be blunt, but if this visit is intended to halt our marriage, please don't try. Nothing you say or do can stop me from marrying Tom," she firmly warned her father.

"No, I'm not here to prevent your marriage. There is so much to say, where to start," he told her in a voice filled with remorse. "But first can you tell me why him? There were many attentive and suitable young men at your beck and call your first season in London, but what made you choose Branson, why marry one of our servants?" he asked her straightforwardly.

"Former servant," she reminded him. "It's very simple. I love him," she warmed to a smile at the recollection of their love affair. "You know he and I would talk for hours on our trips back and forth to Ripon. It happened so gradually, I don't think either of us planned it."

"We would wonder why you were so often late to dinner, but we reasoned you were delayed with one your various projects. We had no inkling."

"Neither did we. We didn't realize we were in love till Tom and I literally ran into each other in Bedford Square in London," she said. "Papa, he's a wonderful caring man. He gave me the confidence to choose the life I now have. I suppose he saw the woman I could become, he showed me a world beyond the one I had known. And before I knew it I had fallen deeply in love with him."

"But you and he are not from the same background. Some would even say he's not your social equal. It is a difficult match, I must confess."

"We are equal in all the things that matter to us. Trust me it has not been an easy road, but we are finally to be married. I can't think of anyone who makes me happier or with whom I want to spend the rest of my life. I suppose that's a long answer to your question 'why him?'"

"Your news blindsided us to be honest. Indeed it's a surprising choice. But you know I've always thought Branson to be a promising young man, he has a spark about him. Although we obviously do not see eye-to-eye about politics," Robert said.

"Yes he's a bit of a radical when it comes to politics, but its because Tom wants everyone to live as well as we do. You can't fault him for that can you?"

"No I cannot," Robert replied turning away momentarily. With his back to her he began, "You see these last few years in the army, away from the family and Downton, have been challenging. Since the armistice last month, I've been thinking hard about its impact."

"Yes, this war has left its mark on all of us. I hope we can heal the wounds after so much sadness," Sybil offered. Robert turned again toward her and she noticed a tear streaming down his cheek.

"I fought in the Boer War, you know; Bates was my ever faithful batman. My men were loyal and combat was fierce, but it was real. God after that we never," he shook his head, "none of us ever wanted to see war again."

"Yes I can imagine," Sybil said compassionately.

"We men never learn from our mistakes, do we? And this mess of a war was of a different order all together. It was like some big machine and I only tended one of the cogs. I trained hundreds, no I believe thousands of young men. I sent them off to their deaths in some dank trench who knows where—one bright eyed lad after another. It was a machine that I nor any one else had any power to shut the damned thing off," he said taking moment to compose his emotions.

"Yes, I tended the survivors in our wards."

"You know when I came home this year, I yearned for what was familiar, what I could trust. I wanted the comfort of the Downton I knew, where everything was the way it was before it all began. It was a world where I was in control. Or at least I thought I was," he stopped for a moment then looked at her and said, "I suppose I wanted to turn back the clock. Was I wrong to want this?"

"Papa, I wish we could turn back time, but as Tom always reminds me, we can only look toward the future. It's a different world than the one that came to a close at that summer garden party four years ago. That lazy carefree afternoon seems worlds always now. Look at us we're all different and some, like poor Thomas, won't be coming back."

"I know. I know that now. But I only wanted to have my family safe, secure, happy. I wanted my daughters to have husbands that would continue to provide the life I had given you. For things to continue as they had been, but I see now that is not possible," he said in resignation.

"Unfortunately its not."

"One day whilst in my library reading I remembered a quote from my school days, it was something like: 'what you leave behind is not engraved in stone monuments, but what is woven into the lives of others,'" he looked at her seeking affirmation. "But it's your word's that are etched most deeply in my mind. You were right when you said in the spring that 'old rules and customs will give way to the new.' You were right things aren't the same. I guess old codgers like me are just slower to make adjustments than others."

Sybil and her father stood in the church's anteroom trying desperately to close the gap that had separated them. It was a very different meeting than the one four years ago when Sybil had asked her father's permission to move to London. She was no longer that naïve girl under her father's guardianship, but a woman in charge of her life. Sybil harnessed the strength of her own convictions and the wisdom gained from her myriad of experiences. She took a deep breath.

"Papa, I'm sorry for any unhappiness I may have caused you, Mama, Granny or anyone else in the family. I never meant to hurt or disappoint anyone, especially you," she began trying to ease his anxiety. "Quite the opposite, I struggled with when and how to tell you—but we had to tell you and Mama sometime and then seemed the best. I'm truly sorry. But Tom and I have made a life together that is safe and secure, and we are truly happy. I hope that's enough for you."

Robert nodded affirmatively, but said nothing.

"These past four years, with my life in London, my nurse's training, becoming a doctor, new places and people—was about finding my own footing, learning to stand on my own."

"Your mother and I are very proud of you."

"You know, when I was a little girl I watched very carefully how you cared for the estate and treated all those who worked for you. Do you remember how I used to try to follow you around everywhere?"

"You were quite an insistent little girl with all your questions," Robert recalled.

"Even then, I admired your compassion and fortitude. You've made Downton a place where people can live and work with dignity. And I've tried to take the lessons you've taught me and care for those less fortunate and in need around me. I have you to thank for that. I don't think I could have asked for a better father."

Robert walked over and put his arms around his daughter. They were reconciled at last.

"I'm sorry Sybil. I'm sorry for how I dealt with you and Branson. I wanted to protect you from uncertainty, but I had no right to treat you the way I did. Will you forgive me?" he beseeched his daughter.

"If you'll forgive me for all the things I kept from you and Mama?" Sybil asked shedding a tear of joy.

"Of course. Now, now no tears on your wedding day—I think we should let it begin. I'll go get Dr. McNeil," he said and he began to turn around

"No wait, it can't begin without you. Will you do me the honor of escorting me down the aisle?"

He smiled and sweetly kissed Sybil's head, "I'd be honored. Now there is a deserving young man very much in love with my daughter who's been waiting patiently to marry her," he took his daughter's hand and opened the door.

Outside stood Cora who warmly greeted Sybil as she emerged out of the room.

"Sybil you look absolutely beautiful," Cora said, her face breaking into a wide grin as she hugged her daughter and looked over her wedding dress. "I'm glad you and your father have reconciled and that you've forgiven us for that awful day. We've so missed you."

"Mama, I'm just happy you are here…oh, and so is Granny!" Sybil noticed Violet sitting in the corner of the vestibule being uncharacteristically quiet. She went over to kiss her grandmother.

"Sybil my dear. Glad that Robert finally came to see reason. While he's a fair-minded adult, he can be as ghastly stubborn as he was when a little boy. It took great prodding and planning to get him here you know?"

"Thank you, thank you all for coming," Sybil told her family. "I can't think of a better wedding gift than to have all my family here."

"Rosamond, Edith, and Sir Anthony are inside," Cora said. "And so are Mrs. Hughes and Mr. Carson. They told us you and Branson had sent them an invitation, so we thought they would want to be here too."

Sybil was happy at that news and knew Branson was also pleased.

Mary and Louisa came out to give the bride her bouquet—calla lilies tided with a ribbon.

Mary said, "I think your future husband is itching for the bride to make an appearance."

"Tell them we are ready, we're all ready," she said to Louisa who then opened the doors for Sybil to enter and everyone stood.

* * *

Since it was Christmas Eve, the rustic Arts and Crafts styled interior had been decorated with boughs of holly and pine whose woodsy scent permeated the air. The intimate scale of the sanctuary lent an appropriate atmosphere to the special ceremony for the thirty close friends and family in attendance. Down the aisle Robert escorted his daughter to her soon-to-be husband who stood at the altar dressed in a dark blue suit. Mary served as Sybil's bridesmaid and Kevin, looking all grown-up in a suit, obliged as his brother's best man.

As Sybil walked step by step it was as if her past led to her future. She was glad to see Jeremy and Imogene sharing in this day. It had been a chance encounter that had guided them to the new home where she and Branson had at last found contentment. Sybil had discovered with their neighbors—the passionate painter and the eccentric sculptor—an abiding friendship that she hoped would continue to deepen.

In front of them she noticed Louisa and Dr. McNeil who were an important part of her new professional life since leaving her beloved Downton. Louisa had been an invaluable compatriot in those grueling days in the ward and Arthur had become a treasured mentor who generously tutored her future as a physician. They along with Imogene and Jeremy represented a new group of friends (made irrespective of class or social standing) that she and Branson enjoyed welcoming into their new home.

On the other side of the aisle sat Mr. Carson and Mrs. Hughes, the real engines that kept Downton's physical and social mechanisms running. But for Sybil these two stalwarts were more than mere family employees, they were family. Growing up in such an enormous country estate, they had lovingly looked after her well-being only second to her parents. The fact that Branson respected and valued their guidance endeared them to her even more.

Anna and Mr. Bates sat in the next pew. Sybil was grateful for Anna's confidence in her courtship with Branson. It was Anna who had forwarded the former chauffeur's letter to her on Christmas Eve three years ago. It was in that innocent letter from the battlefront that she first knew that her heart belong to that spirited young man who had been in her parent's employ. She had witnessed how Anna herself had grown into a woman who also made her own choices in life and her recent marriage to Mr. Bates, who sat proudly and lovingly next to her, exemplified her independence. She was pleased to have made such a loyal friend.

Edith sat contentedly next to Sir Anthony and nearby sat Matthew and Isobel, her cherished cousins. It was only four years ago that the cousins from Manchester had suddenly appeared in their life after the tragic deaths of the heirs to Downton. But in that time span they had opened a window to the world beyond the tiny Yorkshire village where she had spent all of her life. Cousin Isobel's commitment for how medicine could help improve the life of others had sparked a similar passion in her. She had grown to love them both very much. And she was also glad that her sister Mary had finally come to truly value Matthew's rare integrity and enduring love.

She then heard the twins squeal "Look," said one. "Dr. Sybil!" said the other and she winked at them as she walked past her adorable soon to be little sisters-in-laws. Mrs. Branson had put on at least twenty pounds since June and her skin color had returned to a rosy glow. She looked elegant in a blue dress her son had sent to her for the event. And now that Kate's health was almost back to normal, Sybil could finally see that Branson's Mary, who sat next to Brian, was the spitting image of her mother. It was on her trip to Belfast where she discovered all of the people and circumstances that had molded Branson into the man she loved.

And in the front pew her grandmother Violet sat regally between her mother and Rosamond. Granny had proved a surprising ally in her quest to marry Branson. Whilst the men of the Crawley family publicly performed as the family heads, she had come to admire the quiet reserve and will of the Crawley women. These women—Violet, Cora, and Rosamond—were an integral, although rarely acknowledged part of how her family worked. While Robert bore the title, her grandmother proved to be the real steward of the familial vessel. Sybil also knew that men would one day openly recognize women as equal partners in marriage, and she saw her self as fortunate that she was about to marry one who was willing to do so now.

Sybil could see Branson's look of surprise at the appearance her father in lieu of Dr. McNeil. His bright blue eyes sparkled with delight as he watched her approach. She remembered gazing into his beguiling eyes from the back seat of the motorcar on those afternoon journeys to and from Ripon. Their intensity revealed to her a world where anything was possible, even though their clarity was for a while clouded by the tears of war. His scent, the warmth of his body, the brilliance of his mind, the calming sound of his voice resonated through her soul.

When she arrived at the altar, her joy radiated outwardly and Branson smiled knowingly. She remembered for a split second the closing stanza of the poem she had read to him that winter's night they lay in each other's arms in the library:

_ That night is only the background of our selves,  
Supremely true each to its separate self,  
In the pale light that each upon the other throws._

Robert took Sybil's hand and placed it in Branson's. Her father nodded with a gesture of assurance that made them both grateful for her family's acceptance. With both families in attendance they felt that the jigsaw puzzle of their respective allegiances and duties had finally been made whole.

The minister read the couple's vows. Sybil and Branson repeated the binding phrases and knew that every word was said in earnest. They exchanged bands and were pronounced husband and wife.

"You are my dearest friend and only love," he vowed to Sybil.

"And I will love you always," she promised Branson.

The two turned around to face sanctuary and everyone erupted in applause.

The newly married couple walked arm-in-arm back up the aisle amidst the clapping and cheers. Once through the doors, Branson and Sybil gazed blissfully into each other's eyes.

"We made it!" he exclaimed joyfully. He picked her up and spun her around as friends and family streamed into the vestibule.

"Yes, against it all, we made it," she whispered softly in his ear, "you, me, and our baby!"

"Baby?"

"Yes!"

And Sybil and Branson's lips met passionately for a moment that stretched into infinity.

_*FIN*_

* * *

_Thank you all for your generous thoughts and comments and for following what seemed to be the never-ending story of "Sybil and Branson's Excellent Adventures." I can't wait to see what the realm masterminds behind these characters have in store for us in the second season. _

_And also thank you for the encouragement. I'd never written a word of fiction, let alone dialogue before starting this story in February. I'm awed by the many talents of those who contribute fan fiction to this board – you are all a great inspiration. _

_And lastly Robert's quote: 'what you leave behind is not engraved in stone monuments, but what is woven into the lives of others' is taken from the Athenian statesmen Pericles._

_Thank you!_


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